To Race the Wild Wind
by fetherhd
Summary: Vincent takes a vacation and visits the small town of Clearwater in order to attend it's Destria Festival. (think Sturgis crossed with the Kentucky Derby) While there, he and Chaos get a lesson on life, love and the power of forgiveness that they will never forget. This is a re-post. The story is complete but it will take me a bit to get it up in its entirety.
1. Chapter 1

"To Race the Wild Wind" Was my first attempt at writing a full length story. It was also my first fanfiction and as such it will always hold a special place in my heart. I am re-posting this story in response to public pressure, as it seems that this simple story is on other peoples favorite lists too and it has been missed. Square Enix holds all rights to the FFVII world and its characters. I am just playing with them for a while.

TO RACE THE WILD WIND

ch. 1

Vincent Valentine parked his powerful cycle in front of a small Inn named, "The Ironwood." Over the door was a sign swaying in the slight breeze. It was simply marked with the twisted form of an ironwood tree.

He was careful to park the big machine well out of reach of the large animal who was also tethered there. The gunman wasn't an expert on Destria, but he could see that this one was one of the racer type. It's clean, smooth, long legged lines screamed quality. Large nostrils flared as it caught his scent when he strode by. It chortled a nervous snort, its lips lifting to expose its fangs as it pulled away from him as far as its tied reins would permit.

Ignoring it, the gunman paused just inside the door, giving himself a moment to adjust from bright daylight to the cooler dimness on the inside of the small establishment. Vincent's crimson eyes blinked in surprise. He had been expecting to step into the usual booze smelling hole that was the venue of these small border towns. Instead, although small and dimly lit, the common room was clean. The heavy wood tables gleamed softly in the faint light coming through the open door. All Vincent's sensitive nose could detect was the faint smell of good quality alcohol and some definitely interesting odors emanating from the door that presumably led to the kitchen.

It was still relatively early and the place seemed to be empty except for a burly, older man behind the curved ironwood bar. This individual had paused in his task of polishing a glass when Vincent stepped in. Mild dark brown eyes in a pleasant face studied the crimson cloaked gunman as he approached the bar. Vincent's metallic boots echoed loudly in the quiet of the room. Those wise brown eyes widened as a swing of the red cloak revealed Cerberus riding in its holster on the slender man's right hip.

"Do you serve Wuttaisian beer?" Vincent kept his voice polite, he still found being stared at an uncomfortable experience. The bartender set his glass and towel down.

"No, but I do have a home brew that compares." He expertly filled a tall glass from the tap. "You aren't planning on starting any trouble with that, are you?" He nodded towards the big gun.

Hnn," Vincent answered as he accepted the dark, foamy beer. "I don't make it a habit to START trouble," (Although, he thought darkly, he seemed to have no problem with FINISHING it.) Vincent carried his drink to a back table, and settled into a chair with his back to the wall. From here he could clearly view the entire room, all of the doors, and the dark stairwell leading to the upstairs rooms. Vacation or not, old habits died hard it seemed. A small smile stirred his lips as he sipped the cold brew, its quality taking him by surprise.

It had been almost a year since the events leading to Deepground's destruction. But, it seemed there had been little decrease in the incidence of death and terror that kept cropping up. The W.R.O. was kept busy trying to contain or destroy the mako mutated "experiments" that had escaped Shinra's control. Usually the first person to be called in to deal with these was yours truly, Vincent Valentine. No rest for the wicked, he thought, as he watched the room's other occupant now lazily polishing the bar.

To be fair, Reeves had insisted that Vincent take a break, That was the main reason he was in this backwater little town. Every year the small town of Clearwater re-established its place on the map by holding its annual Destria festival. Breeders and enthusiasts of the elegant animals congregated from all over the world to buy, sell, and participate in the many competitions involving the rare beasts. The week long festival would culminate in "The Gauntlet." This brutal endurance/speed race covered one hundred miles of tortured terrain through the Devil's Anvil. Vincent had arrived in town several days earlier than expected. His afternoon plans included a high speed motorcycle run across the gauntlet's twisting course.

He was just finishing off the excellent beer when there was a loud crash from the kitchen. The gunslinger had to ruthlessly squelch the instinct that had his hand reaching for his holster. I guess I do need some time off, he thought ruefully. The barkeep looked alarmed as he yelled, "Damn it Crysta, get out of my kitchen!" The big man definitely looked irate.

"Sorry Grant,"… a husky voice hollered back cheerfully. "Just let me fix this."

There were more bangs and thumps; now Grant looked positively panicked as he came out from behind the bar. The kitchen door banged open and a middle aged woman almost ran the larger man over. She was laughing as she wrapped a sandwich up in a napkin.

"It's your own fault Grant. If you hadn't refused to make me lunch, and I quote, this early in the day, unquote. I wouldn't have to fend for myself."

She lithely dodged around the man in her path. Vincent couldn't help but notice that although the woman's movements were quick and oddly graceful, she walked with a slight limp.

"Well count me as suitably reprimanded." Grant stuck his head through the door, surveying the damage.

"CRAP! How did you create this kind of mess just making a simple sandwich?" The man looked as if he were going to have a coronary. Crysta flashed him a raffish smile and shot out the door, blowing the barkeep a kiss as she went.

Grant's shoulders sagged and he looked totally defeated. Both men listened as the sound of pounding destria hooves faded. Vincent couldn't help but feel a little sympathy as he met the older man's sorrowful, much put upon look.

"Do you have any rooms available?" The gunman asked as he set his empty glass on the bar.

"Sorry," Grant was obviously still preoccupied with the state of his kitchen. "Gods help me; Don Ricardo and Crysta have all of my rooms reserved until after the festival."

He looked at Vincent. "This close to opening you will be lucky to find a room anywhere in town."

An hour later saw Vincent astride his cycle heading out towards the Devil's Anvil. Grant had not been mistaken in his earlier assessment. There were no rooms available in town. That left him with a couple of options. He could camp in the town commons, this was set aside for those people coming in for the festival who could not find or afford other accommodations. Or, he could see if one of the local breeders would allow him to rough it out on one of their properties around the town. He had settled on the second choice as the commons would be overcrowded. Due to his many years of self imposed isolation the gunman had a real aversion to crowds.

Opening the throttle on the bike a little wider, Vincent leaned into it as he whipped around a turn. This part of the gauntlet's course followed the contours of a sharp ridge line. There was a sharp drop off on either side of the narrow road. He enjoyed the surge of adrenalin as the dual front wheels slipped a little and then re-gained traction heading into another turn. Where as he did not have Cloud's natural talent or experience with the powerful cycles, his inhuman strength, and enhanced reflexes more than make up for it.

Sharp eyes caught movement up ahead. Through the raised dust, Vincent could just make out the large form of a destria stretched out in a full gallop. Its' rider was stretched out along its' shoulders and neck, half buried in the flying mane. The gunslinger eased the big bike over intending on passing the pair on their left. He wanted to give the notoriously high strung animal plenty of space. Just as he came abreast of them there was a flash of movement on the destria's right. Seemingly in mid stride the large animal shied sideways fighting the rider's tight hold on the reins. She amazingly stayed centered in the saddle as though she was glued there.

Vincent swore as the destria continued its plunging sideways run directly into the speeding motorcycle's path. The gunman did the only thing he had time to do. He laid the bike down in a sideways skid. A brief vision of what the heavy machine would do to the destria's fragile seeming legs passed through his mind. There was an impression of misplaced air and he caught a glimpse of flashing hooves. Somehow the destria had made a desperate twisting leap, clearing him and the sliding cycle. Vincent stuck with the machine waiting for the bite that would tell him that the dual wheels had traction again. For a heart pounding moment he thought he had gotten away with it. Then the bottom dropped out from underneath the bike. He had run out of road. The gunman had a micro second to get clear of the now tumbling machine as they slid over the ravine's edge. A second of free fall, then the ground came up with frightening speed. There was a flash of intense pain on impact, then only darkness as his suddenly limp body tumbled down the rock strewn slope until it came to rest at the bottom.

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I will try to get this story posted as quickly as possible. As always reviews serve as a HUGE motivator!


	2. Chapter 2

I must admit I have been surprise and humbled by my fans reaction to putting this story back on. I appreciate the feedback telling me how happy you are to see this. I will try to be prompt about getting it re-loaded.

To Race the Wild Wind Chapter 2

For the most part, Vincent floated in pain laced darkness. Occasionally he would rise towards the surface and awareness would worm its way into his brain. One time, it was the sound of someone softly cursing and the touch of strong hands as he was gently rolled over that brought him up to the brink. But then the pain of broken bones grinding together dropped him right back into the abyss. Another time, he awoke to the feel of a warm, spicy smelling hide against his cheek and the rhythmic sound of hoof beats jarring in time to the pain in his body. He tried to straighten up, but found it was much easier just to slip back into the comfortable darkness.

"How's he doing?" Grants gravelly voice penetrated the dark and Vincent dragged himself back towards awareness.

"A lot better than I expected." This voice was familiar, but his muddled brain just couldn't place it. It was accompanied by cool, calloused fingers carefully probing over his sore ribcage and abdomen. "Only bruising left where there were broken bones. I can only assume that whatever internal injuries there might have been, have healed just as fast. Amazing, I've only seen one other person heal as quickly as this one has without the help of a Cure. All there is really left to be concerned about is the head injury." There was the sensation of those cool fingers tracing a very tender spot just over his right eye. He couldn't control the twitch of his eyebrow in nervous reaction.

He lay quiet, with his eyes still closed, taking stock of his surroundings with his other enhanced senses. The ex-Turk could tell he was lying on a very comfortable bed, covered with a soft warm quilt. Another quick check, yep, that's ALL that covered him, a nice… thick… quilt. The room had the confusing smell of flowers mixed with medical supplies and that odd warm, spicy smell. The soft touch withdrew, and Vincent opened his eyes to find himself staring into the concerned gaze of the woman he had seen in the bar that morning. They were, he noticed, a deep green rimmed in golden brown. Tiny laugh lines had started to radiate out from their corners. She was seated in a high backed chair that had been placed beside the bed. Her eyebrows arched in surprise at the unusual color of his eyes, "I hope your eyes were originally that color, or we may have a real problem." Her husky voice held a note of concern. Grant had come forward to where Vincent had a clear view of him. "Its okay Crysta," the barkeep's rough voice held a little chuckle. "That's what color they were this morning."

Vincent tried to push himself up, but found a pair of surprisingly strong hands planted in the middle of his chest, pressing him back down into the pillow. "Whoa there, let's not be hasty. How you didn't leave half of your brains spattered all over that ridge young man, is beyond me." Her capable hands slid up through his hair, sensitive fingers mapping out his skull. The gunman couldn't help but wince when they pressed lightly on one particularly painful spot. "I'll bet that's uncomfortable." her voice was serious; "you had a depressed skull fracture there when I first got down to you, along with all of your other injuries. All I can feel now is a little ridge where the edges have healed. Do you have a head ache?' Vincent nodded carefully; he swore he could hear his brains swooshing around in his head. Head "ache" was an understatement.

"Grant, set that down over here and help him sit up would you?' Grant put the tray he was holding down on the night stand and helped Vincent up into a sitting position. The bartender's blunt fingered hands were strong but gentle. Crysta packed a couple of pillows behind Vincent's back to help support him.

"Are you experiencing any dizziness or nausea? Look here, and follow my finger with just your eyes." Crysta sounded like she expected to be obeyed so Vincent obliged. Grant gave the ex-Turk a conspiratorial wink from behind her back as the younger man followed Crysta's instructions. He seemed glad it was not himself on the receiving end of the woman's concern.

"I'm fine," Vincent had to clear his throat, his mouth was terribly dry. Crysta handed him the glass of water that was sitting on the tray Grant had put down. "Yes, that you are." She murmured so softly he wouldn't have heard it save for his enhanced hearing. Crysta suddenly wouldn't look him in the face as she tucked the quilt around his hips. He had a sudden awful suspicion that Grant hadn't been the one who had undressed him. Glad that he very rarely blushed, he took a sip of water then asked her," Are you the town Doctor?' Those odd eyes flashed up to meet his and her tanned face creased in a wicked smile. "Nooo," she answered, "Although I do fill in for him occasionally, I am more along the lines of the town… Vet." Vincent choked on the mouthful of water he was in the process of swallowing. Her eyes were laughing as she thumped him gently on the back.

"Really, I fill in for the Doc on occasion and have had some medical training so I had no problem assessing your condition. Once I got down to you, it didn't take me but a few minutes to figure out that you are very unusual. With some of the injuries you had, you should have been dead. By the time I got you out of the ravine I could see a lot of the damage was just, disappearing. I was planning on taking you to Dr. Whitet's office, but when we got back to town the worst of the damage seemed to have healed up. Grant and I figured the fewer people in town who are aware of your…modifications…. the better. I am assuming you were a part of Shinra's genetic experimentation?" Vincent still working on catching his breath just nodded. "As you are aware Shinra is considered a bad word in many parts of the world. This town is no different. Many of the towns people are very narrow minded when it comes to some of the things Shinra attempted. Cysta's voice was sad, "Most people don't realize that some of Shinra's ..Subjects…didn't exactly volunteer."

Vincent stared at Crysta with suspicion, who was this woman that she would be aware of some of the shadier things that Shinra had done? Crysta was looking out the open window and he realized that it was quite dark outside; evidently he had been out of it the better part of the day. Crysta absent mindedly patted the back of his claw,

"Well, it looks like you are well on the road to recovery; I had better be getting my butt back to the ranch. " She levered herself out of the chair and walked to the door. Vincent noted that her limp was a lot more pronounced than it had been that morning. She stopped in the doorway," Grant told me you were looking for a room this morning, Mr. Valentine." The ex-Turk's head shot up, he was positive he had told no one his name since arriving in town. Crysta shook her head, a slight smile playing around her mouth. "We may be out in the middle of nowhere, but SOME news gets relayed to us. Lets just say the red cloak and your unusual weapon", she nodded towards Cerberus, which was in its holster hanging from the beds headboard." are dead giveaways to your identity. Grant and I are fully aware of what happened last year at midgar, and are very thankful for your actions. You are welcome to share my room here as long as you need to, just be aware I come and go at very odd hours sometimes. I usually sleep on the duvet." She patted her bad leg," it's easier for me to get in and out of then the bed." Her eyes took on a wicked gleam. "I promise I won't run around naked if you won't." She glanced at the barkeep." Grant will run a tab for any meals or such that you need and Don Ricardo will take care of it. I have already cleared it with him. I'll be by in the morning Grant, with the team and supplies for the week. Mr. Valentine if you are up to it, I can take you out to the accident site tomorrow afternoon and you can retrieve the rest of your supplies. I left them with your bike." With that, she slipped out the door, closing it behind her.

Vincent glanced over at the older man." Is she always that bossy?" The gunman's voice was dryly amused. Grant's bushy eyebrows flew up. "Well no," the barkeep's voice was deadly serious. "She is usually worse than that. You might as well just resign yourself to staying here as she seems to have adopted you. As you witnessed this morning, it doesn't do any good to get in a pissing contest with her. She inevitably wins." Grant ambled over to the door," If you need anything, just holler, I 'll be downstairs." With that he opened the door and stepped out.

Vincent listened until the man's heavy tread on the stairs signaled he was truly going down to the common room. Then the ex-Turk took stock of his accommodations. The room, like the bar had been earlier, was very clean. There was the bed he was in plus the duvet that Crysta had mentioned earlier. It was pushed over by a large window that was cracked open to let in the night air. The soft breeze made the curtains rustle as it entered the room. There were large glass cases lining the walls and these seemed to be full of medical supplies. A couple of high-backed chairs plus a small table occupied the center of the space. These finished out the rest of the room's furnishings. He noticed another door and wondered where it led.

The gunman slipped his legs over the side of the bed. As he did so he noted that even the bruising caused by his injuries was almost gone. His clothing he found folded neatly on one of the chairs, it had been cleaned and he could see where a couple of tears had been neatly mended. Quickly getting dressed, he went over and opened the other door. To his considerable surprise it opened into a tidy little bathroom, with a huge claw foot bathtub. Well, well, well, that seemed a little extravagant for the usual small Inn room. Strolling over to the window he picked up Cerberus as he passed, the gun seemed to have survived the fall without too much damage. The view from the window opened into a courtyard framed by several good sized holding pens and a large barn.

Vincent stood at the window trying to figure out why these people that he didn't know were being so kind. He was uncomfortable with the thought of taking charity from strangers yet he really didn't want to rough it all week. He was surprised to realize he rather liked Grant, and maybe it wouldn't be half bad sharing a room with Crysta.. He nodded to himself as he came to a decision. He would give it a couple of days and see how it went. After all, he was supposed to be on vacation.

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;) I love hearing from you...even if I have heard from you before!


	3. Chapter 3

I must admit that when I removed my stories from the internet...I was in a pretty dark and down state of mind. I am so glad that I made the decision to put them back up with some urging from some wonderful fans! I am feeling much better now...and hope to have this up in its entirety pretty quickly so that I may resume writing on the fics that are unfinished and start some sequels. As always...I truly appreciate those fans who take a moment and let me know what they think of my little tales. You are the bread to my peanut butter. Thanks! As usual...I do not make any profit from my fanfictions. Square Enix holds all of the rights to the FFVII world and its characters. I am just happy to play around with them for a while.

To Race the Wild Wind

ch 3

Vincent watched the sunrise the next morning from the roof of the inn. He had an outstanding view of the small town and surrounding countryside from his two story vantage point. The town of Clearwater was situated in a wide valley created by the Clearwater River. The small river meandered along the center of the valley surrounded by tall trees and almost manicured looking meadows. The gunman could see why this little town had become a Mecca for the breeding of destria. The meadows and pastures in the surrounding area were rich grazing for not only the destria, but also the smaller meat producing animals that supplemented the dietary needs of the big omnivores..

The main street of the town was approximately 2 miles long and was lined with small shops, eating establishments, several large Inns and the inevitable bars and gambling joints. Smaller streets branched off and the businesses became seedier the further away from the center of town you got. On the south side of the town was a compound made up of small paddocks each with its own attached barn These were for housing the many different destria that would be arriving for the festival.. There were a number of the barns already occupied by early arrivals. There was also an oval race track for shorter races, and several arenas for other planned events.

Since the collapse of Shinra many areas had been hard hit by the resulting energy shortage. Clearwater had been far enough off the grid that most of its residences were set up with solar and/or wind generators. There was also a small hydroelectric facility on the river so the town's prosperity had not been as severely impacted as the larger cities had been. Most everyone used either destria or chocobos as transport and he had seen a couple of heavy cargo loads pulled by teams of huge draft type destria roll through town. Vincent could count the number of powered vehicles he had seen that morning on two hands and most of these seemed to be visitors coming for the festival.

"Hey, you interested in breakfast up there?" Grant had popped out the door and was looking up at the relaxing gunman. Now that he mentioned it, Vincent thought, breakfast sounded awfully good, for that matter, some coffee wouldn't be amiss either. He carefully swung his legs over the roof's banister and dropped the twenty feet to land in front of the startled barkeep.

"Well, you better come on in then before it gets cold," Grant held the door, and as the gunman stepped into the bar he could have sworn he heard the barkeep mutter," show off," under his breath.

Vincent was just finishing up the largest breakfast he could remember ever eating when the deep rumble of motorcycle engines disturbed the quiet of the morning. Grant's normally warm and pleasant face became cold as a group of five young men came through the door. All of them were dressed in expensive leathers and all of them had at least one weapon displayed prominently on their bodies. Vincent watched them warily; they reminded him of a pack of young wolves. He transferred his cup of excellent coffee to his clawed hand freeing up the right one in case it was needed.

"Hey there old man,' the tallest of the bunch swaggered up to the bar," when are you going to accept my dad's offer on this dump?" This one was tall and lean, and carried himself with the air that he was better than anyone else around him. His long red hair was pulled back in a neat pony tail, and green eyes stared insolently out of a pale face at the older man behind the bar. The rest of the group gathered around their evident leader. Vincent noticed that all of them had their backs to him, except for one, a heavy set older blond who remained by the door where he had a clear view of the entire room. That's the one who bore watching, the ex-Turk thought.

Grant met the young man's gaze and smiled a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Rave, you can tell your father that if he is interested in buying the Ironwood he can talk to me himself." Grants voice was coldly polite. "That way I can tell him to his face the same thing I always tell you. The Ironwood is not for sale, not to him, not ever. Now if you boys are planning on staying, you need to take, and leave, your weapons outside."

The young man's face twisted into a hateful sneer, "Do you think you are up to disarming us… old man?" The rest had stepped back and their hands hovered around their various weapons. Although Grant didn't seem to move, his hands were suddenly filled with a sawed-off, double barreled shotgun. It was aimed at the redhead's chest. The stocky blonde's hand was a blur as he drew his weapon but he froze as he found himself looking down the triple bores of Cerberus.

"I reckon that between him," Grant nodded at Vincent, "and this," he motioned with the shotgun," I'll have no problem pulling your teeth."

The redhead raised his hands up and forced a dry laugh, "Hey don't get your balls all up in a twist, I was just joking." The cold green eyes that met Vincent's crimson ones as the man turned were anything but laughing. "No harm intended, come on boys, I can tell we aren't welcome in this…genteel… establishment." He headed for the door. The blonde slowly holstered his gun, his blue eyed gaze never leaving Vincent's pale face. He stepped back as, led by the redhead, the rest of the pack exited the bar. He gave the gunslinger a slight nod of respect as he stepped out last.

Grant released the shotgun's hammer and stowed the lethal weapon back under the bar. He picked up a cup, the pot of coffee, and approached Vincent's table. Topping the ex-Turk's cup off, he then poured himself a cup and sat down opposite the gunslinger. Vincent had already holstered his gun. Grant sipped the hot black liquid then leaned back with a sigh, "I am getting to old for this crap." His voice sounded weary, "I can't thank you enough for backing me."

Vincent met the barkeep's honest eyes, "I figured you could handle the one, if you didn't have to worry about the others,"

"Yeah, well that's the problem with Rave; he always stacks the odds in his favor. His father, Don Diego, runs most of the town. Rave seems to think that because he is the Don's only son, he is untouchable. His little group has been putting pressure on a lot of the smaller businesses in town to sell out to his father. I think Don Diego has plans to make the whole town a gambling resort." Grant shrugged his heavy shoulders. "Some of us don't appreciate the Don's grand dream, and Rave figures we are standing in his father's way."

"Hnnn," Vincent idly tapped his claws against the rim of his cup. "The blonde was almost as fast with a gun as me, who is he?"

Grant poured a little more coffee. That's Cal Farraway, there are rumors that he is a Turk who slipped his leash when Shinra fell. He was hired by Diego to keep Rave in one piece. I can't say as that I envy him the job."

There was a heavy rumble from outside and the clatter of big hooves on hard dirt.

Grant jumped up and grabbed the almost empty coffee pot, "CRAP! That would be Crysta, I had better get some more coffee made. She is as evil tempered as one of her destria if she doesn't get her coffee quota filled." He glanced hopefully at his table companion." Could you go out and tell her to take her time unloading? That will give me a few minutes to get this brewed."

"Sure Grant," Vincent sighed and finished off his cup, "no problem." He got up and headed out the back, the barkeep wasn't positive but he was pretty sure he heard the gunman mutter "Coward." at him under his breath as he stalked past.

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_Again I do love hearing from you all. _


	4. Chapter 4

BONUS chapter...in thanks to all of those who have reviewed when I had this story up the first time...and yet are still taking the time to communicate with me this time!

To Race the Wild Wind

CH 4

Vincent walked through the kitchen and stepped out of the backdoor into controlled chaos. Chrysta had driven the cargo wagon into the small courtyard and was in the process of getting the team to swing it around so it could be backed up to the barn. A young man had two other destria on leads and was working on getting the two animals into a holding pen. Another stableman had opened the wide double doors on the barn and was hollering directions as the woman backed the big, fully loaded wagon in.

As Vincent walked up, the animal nearest him caught his scent and shied sideways into the solid shoulder of its teammate. "WHOA! Joshua, you big oaf," Chrysta yelled as she deftly tightened her hold on the reins. The other destria gave the squarely one a nasty look and snapped at its shoulder. Looking suitably reprimanded, the beast settled down, glancing at the gunman with a surprisingly intelligent and reproachful expression on its long face. The ex-Turk gave the pair of animals a wide berth as he approached the wagon.

GODS, he hadn't realized just how big the draft animals were. Their shoulders towered over his head by a good 6 inches, and their powerful, heavy boned bodies rippled with the thick muscling required for pulling loads that could weigh up to 10 tons. They had worked up a slight sweat on their trip in and Vincent realized that the odd, warm, spicy scent that he had smelled the night before, originated with them.

Chrysta wrapped the reins around the brake and set it, as the two hired men started unloading the sacks of feed and equipment that took up the entire wagon and then some. She climbed stiffly down from the high seat and grimaced, as with her hands on her hips she stretched. Vincent couldn't help but wince a little in sympathy when his acute hearing picked up several loud pops and cracks as her spine realigned itself.

"Oh do I hate festival week," she flashed a tired smile Vincent's way. "Why don't we go in while the boys unload and have some coffee?"

For a moment the gunman thought about throwing Grant to the wolves. Then, figuring that the man would be making most of his meals for the next week, he thought maybe he had better try a delaying tactic. He looked toward the two destria that had been confined together in one of the corrals.

"I have never been up close to one of these guys." He walked over to the fence. Both destria eyed him suspiciously from the other side of the enclosure. "Do they belong to you?"

Chrysta turned towards him and the look on her face matched the suspicious look on the faces of the destria. She joined the gunman at the fence. "The two drafters belong to Don Ricardo," she answered. "These two are mine." She whistled softly and the smaller destria gave an answering whuffle and strolled up to the fence. This animal was not as tall as the drafters and built with lighter bones and cleaner lines. The bony gold colored shield on her head was tipped with small white horns. Her smooth hide was a soft creamy gold dappled with spots of almost white. The soft feathery mane and the feathering on her legs and tail were a gleaming white touched at the end with gold.

"This is Nuva; she is one of my oldest mares. She is also as close to trustworthy as these critters come." Chrysta scratched the female's horn ridges as she spoke. Nuva leaned into the caress, her blue eyes closed in bliss.

"You might as well introduce yourself as this is who you will be riding this afternoon." The woman stepped back, "Just allow her to smell your hand, and if she wants to smell your breath, let her."

Vincent's eyebrows shot up, but he extended his human hand to allow the big animal to smell it. The pink muzzle brushed it and Nuva tensed, and then snorted wrinkling her lips as if his scent offended her.

"YAH," Chrysta's voice was sharp, and she placed her hand over Vincent's. He stiffened at the unasked for contact. She ignored him, never breaking eye contact with the mare.

"You behave yourself Nuva," She slid her hand around so it was under his. Nuva's blue eye's studied the woman face and then looked into Vincent's crimson ones for a moment. Then she blew out a breath and gently lipped at his fingers. When she was done exploring his hand her nose came up and nuzzled at the side of his face. She blew softly again. Vincent stiffened at the thought of the big fangs being that close to his face. Remembering what Chrysta had said he blew a breath out through his mouth and the cream colored destria, her wide nostrils flaring, inhaled it. They stood for a moment exchanging and sharing breaths, then it seemed Nuva came to a decision. She dropped her big head and pushed her nose between his and Crysta's hand. Then she rubbed the side of her face along the gunslinger's arm.

Chrysta sighed and stepped back," Well I guess you've made a new friend, she wants you to scratch her ridges."

Vincent tentatively reached up, and scratched along the base of Nuva's horns. She quivered with pleasure and made a soft crooning sound deep in her throat. He was amazed at how soft and pleasant feeling her hide was. Without thinking about it he slipped his gauntleted hand under her mane and scratched gently along her crest. She leaned into him, the soft pervasive croon deepening. The soothing sound seemed to penetrate to his very bones.

"HMMMM," something stirred in the back of his mind, surprising the ex-Turk. CHAOS very rarely awoke these days. Since that fateful day at Deepground, Vincent had almost total control over the once unmanageable demon.

"THAT'S…NICE…." The demon's rough voice sounded almost drugged.

The gunman continued absently scratching along the destria's head and neck. "Yes" he agreed with the… Presence.. in his mind, "it is …nice."

"Valentine…Vincent… VALENTINE…" Chrysta's voice jerked him back to awareness. He felt oddly relaxed, almost like he had been hypnotized. Nuva snorted and gave the woman a truly dirty look. Then, with a final pink nosed nudge on the gunman's arm, she tossed her head and trotted back over to her companion, her tail flagged like she was totally pleased with herself.

Vincent shook his head, feeling a little dazed." What was that?"

Chrysta looked surprised and a little perplexed." They do that sometimes. We think it's a throwback to when they hunted in packs; now it's used to strengthen herd bonds. Nuva must really like you, they only rarely bond with people and it is unheard of for one of them to bond with more than one person at a time." She looked over at the reunited pair of animals, and then she glanced slyly at the gunman out of the corner of her eyes.

"Of course... there is no accounting for taste." She turned on her heel and headed for the Inn, "Grant better have that coffee ready by now."

Vincent followed behind at a slower pace; he was amazed at how fast she could move with that odd limping gait. He really hoped he would get at least one cup of coffee out of the pot.

* * *

:)


	5. Chapter 5

Playing catch up...trying to get some projects I am behind on before the worst of winter sets in...sorry for the delay. This is a fan fiction I make no money from it. Square Enix holds all rights to the FFVII world and its characters. I own the rights to my original characters.

To Race the Wild Wind CH.5

Clearwater was slowly starting to fill up with festival enthusiasts. As Chrysta and Vincent rode out later that day, they passed people riding destria, motorcycles and the occasional freaked out chocobo. The ex-Turk watched as Chrysta's mount reached out and tried to snatch a mouthful of passing chocobo. The bird WHARKED and skittered sideways almost dumping its swearing rider. All the big black destria got was a mouthful of fluffy feathers. Chrysta slapped the animal with the flat of her hand and turned him in a tight circle. Vincent could have sworn that the golden eyes that looked into his face for a moment were laughing as the black shook his head, playfully scattering feathers all around.

As they got a ways out of town, the road cleared out and Chrysta increased their speed. They went from a smooth four beat walk to a two beat trot. Vincent had ridden chocobos before and found this up and down gait a lot different than the big birds rolling pace. He watched to see how the woman next to him dealt with it, and copying her, he adopted the rocking rise she used. He found this smoothed the ride out considerably.

The gunman considered himself to be in excellent shape. The modifications that Hojo had made to his body, as much as he resented them, made it function as efficiently as a machine. Even so, after a few minutes of this unfamiliar motion, various muscles that he didn't even know existed were protesting. There was a soft snicker from deep in his mind. Chaos was awake.

"What are you laughing at?" Vincent asked the question already knowing what the reply would be.

"OH, YOU ARE SO GOING TO REGRET THIS!" Chaos was down right laughing now. Vincent's answer was a dry 'No kidding, tell me something I don't already know."

"REALLY," Chaos sounded puzzled. "I MUST ADMIT THAT ALTHOUGH THESE …DESTRIA …ARE INTRIGUING, I DON'T SEE WHAT IS SO ATTRACTIVE ABOUT THEM."

Nuva shook her head and snorted derisively. Without any warning raw power exploded under the ex-Turk. The first couple of seconds were taken up by a desperate, leather snatching bid just to stay in the saddle, then he caught his balance. The road blurred, as muscles surging, the mare rapidly picked up speed. There was a movement of black as Zephyr's head and neck appeared along side them. The big black matched the cream stride for stride. Chrysta had flattened out over the black's powerful shoulder and Vincent followed suit as they raced knee to knee. Nuva's golden mane streamed out and blended with Vincent's raven black hair in the flying wind. That same wind teased tears out of his eyes which were narrowed to slits. The gunman realized with a start that he was grinning like a mad man. The pair's hooves rumbled like thunder on the hard packed road and for a moment it felt like they were riding on the wings of a storm.

"WAHOO!" This came from Chaos" WHAT A RUSH!"

They flew like this for what seemed an eternity then Chrysta's hands tightened on the reins and Zephyr slowed his flight. Nuva followed the big male's lead slowing until they had settled into a ground eating lope.

"Wahoo…?" Vincent was never going to let the demon live this down.

"HEY, DON'T BLAME ME. THAT WAS FUN! The demon sounded almost…wistful? HEAVEN KNOWS, YOU NEVER SEEM TO LET… US… JUST HAVE FUN. I AM HERE BY REVISING MY OPINION OF DESTRIA." Vincent was a little disconcerted when Chaos's voice took on a wheedling tone," COME ON VINNIE, BUY ME ONE."

Nuva chortled something that sounded suspiciously like a laugh.

In no time at all they arrived at the accident site. Together, Chrysta and Vincent peered over the edge while she pointed out the route she had taken to get down to him. He could see the remains of the bike crumpled at the bottom of the ravine. Chrysta wiggled back from the edge and got a rope off of Zephyr's saddle. Her face had become alarmingly pale.

"Are you okay?" Vincent paused in the process of tying the rope into a climbing harness.

"Yep" The woman had looped the other end of the rope around Zephyr's saddle horn to help support the gunman's weight. "As long as I stay way back here, I'll be just fine." Responding to his curious look she shrugged," Heights and I don't get along."

Vincent looked down at the seemingly diminutive bike lying on the canyon floor, then back at the woman who was fussing with her mount's saddle.

"Don't ask," Chrysta sent a look his way that looked distinctly embarrassed.

"It was scary, it was ugly, and if I hadn't seen you move and knew you were injured and alive, you'd still be down there." She shuddered, "That climb is NOT something I would willingly do again."

"Guess that means I had better not fall a second time?" Vincent tested his knots.

"Damn right…" Chrysta grinned, "…you manage to fall again you can just plan on staying down there."

"VINCENT, WE COULD JUST FLY….."

"No!" Vincent cut the demon off.

"GIVE ME A BREAK, A QUICK CHANGE, THEN DOWN AND BACK," Chaos moved towards the surface of the gunman's mind.

"I said NO," Vincent ruthlessly put the brakes on the demon's rise. "That's all we need. I don't want to have to explain… "YOU"…. to Chrysta. Not to mention Nuva and Zephyr would freak!"

Actually with Zephyr anchoring the rope it took Vincent very little time or effort to get down to the bike. A quick once over convinced him that the machine was salvageable. He emptied the side bags, and removed the rest of his gear, making it into a bundle he could carry back. A sharp tug on the rope and Zephyr easily hauled him back up.

The man was surprised as he reached the top; Nuva was right on the edge looking down at him. If he didn't know better he would have sworn the look on that long face was worried. She just about knocked him off again as she nosed at him trying to push him away from the edge.

"Back off you ninny." Vincent slapped the pink muzzle lightly. The mare got out of his way, giving him a look of sad reproach. Then, with a whuffle she turned her back on him and went to stand by Chrysta, nuzzling at the woman for sympathy.

"I THINK YOU HURT HER FEELINGS."

The ex-Turk ignored the demon. He refused to feel guilty. Chrysta coiled the rope up and hung it on Zephyr's saddle. She wouldn't look directly at him, but he could see her lips twitching. As he came up to Nuva, the cream gave a big slobbery, heaving sigh and peered up at him from under her eye ridges. Chrysta had turned away and her shoulders were shaking, she didn't say a word.

"MAYBE YOU SHOULD APOLOGIZE." Chaos was buying the whole, poor pitiful me, routine.

"I refuse to feel guilty," Vincent was adamant. He tied his bundled belongings behind the saddle.

Chrysta swung up on Zephyr. Vincent put his foot in the stirrup and Nuva's whole body sagged as she gave a pathetic groan.

"MAYBE…"

"Chaos, shut up! I am NOT apologizing…OH...MY...GODS!" Vincent stared, even the destria's lips were sagging and they twitched piteously. He threw up his hands in defeat.

"OKAY, I give in! I am sorry I slapped you when you were just showing concern as to my well being." He heard Chrysta choking and spun on his heel to fix her with a hard stare.

"Something wrong?" he asked.

The woman had her hands clamped over her mouth and her eyes were twinkling.

"N-no…." She cleared her throat, "I just swallowed some dust."

"Humph," Vincent gathered his reins and mounted Nuva. The cream pranced around for a moment, then reached around to gently nipped at his foot.

"FOR SOMEONE WHO REFUSED TO FEEL GUILTY," Chaos sounded smug." YOU SURE CAVED…."

"Chaos, shut up!" Vincent sighed; he liked the demon better when he wasn't trying to be helpful.

* * *

I shall try to have the next chapter up a bit quicker.


	6. Chapter 6

This is a fanfiction...Square Enix holds all right to the FFVII world and its characters. I am just playing with them for a while.

To Race the Wild Wind Ch. 6

Vincent and Nuva rode into town late that evening. The horizon had turned a deep purple and the first stars were just starting to twinkle into view. Chrysta and Zephyr had headed out to the ranch several miles out of town, leaving the pair to make their own way home. There was still a lot of traffic on the main street and all of the businesses seemed to have geared up, preparing for the festival. Still even with the crowd their passage was very easy. The few individuals dumb enough to get in Nuva's way hastily cleared a path when the mare gave them the evil eye and popped her fangs together, making a sound like a gunshot.

They turned into the alley and were met at the barn door by one of the stable hands. The young man took hold of Nuva's reins and scratched her eye ridges while Vincent dismounted. The gunman stretched and was amazed when his back made the same sounds as Chrysta's had earlier that day. He was absurdly grateful that Chaos was… elsewhere; he would have never heard the end of it otherwise. Vincent untied his bundle of belongings and with a final pat on Nuva's crest he headed into the Ironwood with a hot shower foremost on his mind.

Grant was behind the bar, and a couple of waitresses moved amongst the tables serving food and drinks. Business was hopping in the small establishment. Chrysta had asked Vincent to relay a message to the bartender so he stopped at the bar for a moment, waiting to catch the big man's attention. Grant finished the order he was putting together and ambled over to speak with him.

"SOOO… you survived your first destria ride, and with CHRYSTA to boot, imagine that!" Grant's smile lit up his whole face. "Are you going to have a meal down here or would you like me to send something up?"

Valentine was again struck at how much he liked the man. His own lips twitched up at the corners before he realized it. Yuffie would have been amazed, Vincent Valentine smiling in response to someone else's smile.

"I think I smell far too much like a destria to eat with the public."

Vincent ignored the fact that Grant's smile turned into a face splitting grin.

"I think I am just going to go up and shower. I might get something later on. Chrysta told me to tell you…" Vincent paused here to make sure he relayed the message correctly. "To be sure to turn the electric fence on and put out the warning signs. She said she is bringing "The General" in tonight when the crowds thin out."

The gunman was concerned when Grant's smile disappeared and his face paled. The older man seemed to sag.

Vincent reached for him with his normal hand, worried about the bartender's health.

"Are you okay?"

The ex-Turk's deep, normally monotone voice held a note of concern.

The barman waved his hand away.

"I'm okay; it's just that I hate dealing with that S.O.B.!"

Vincent frowned,

"Is he really that bad?"

The older man looked up, his worried brown eyes meeting the gunman's ruby ones,

"The General is a breeding stallion; this in a normal destria would make him difficult to deal with. He is also VERY intelligent; that beast can outthink the average person… And… he is mentally unstable; in my opinion, totally insane. She named him after Sephiroth for a reason. I would be willing to wager gil that some day Chrysta is going to slip up and that bastard will finish the job he started on her."

The man's normally placid voice had real venom in it. Catching the ex-Turk's look of curiosity he shook his head.

"You will just have to ask Chrysta, it's not a story that I care to repeat. It is bad enough I can't just erase it out of my mind." The man shrugged and gave a heartfelt sigh, "Well, I guess I had better go out and make sure things are ready for him."

Vincent watched as Grant stomped from behind the bar and headed out through the kitchen door. The man was still mumbling to himself and shaking his head as he disappeared from view.

Gathering up his belongings, Vincent headed up the stairs to his room and the long anticipated shower. He set his cell phone on the table. As he undressed, he listened to the messages he had missed while the device had been down in the ravine. The majority of them were from Yuffie and followed along the lines of….

"Where are you? Come on pick up." And finally, "**#!# Vincent Valentine! At the risk of sounding like Cid, Answer your *##** phone and at least let me know you are still *#!#** alive!"

The gunman was already in the bathroom when that particular one came on and he couldn't resist peeking out to make sure his phone hadn't burst into flames.

As he turned the shower on as hot as he could stand it, Chaos gave him a mental nudge.

"HEY VALENTINE, LOOK UP AND TO YOUR LEFT!"

His eldest demon's voice sounded excited. Vincent obliged and noticed a jar filled to the brim with what looked like deep green leaves.

"IF THAT'S WHAT I THINK IT IS, YOUR SORE MUSCLES ARE IN FOR A TREAT." Chaos was just full of anticipation." TAKE IT DOWN AND SMELL IT. DON'T GET ANY WATER IN IT."

"What, you're into bubble baths now?" Vincent couldn't help himself. "Oh, how the mighty have fallen."

"JUST SMELL IT!" the demon snarled

The gunman unscrewed the lid and took a tentative whiff. He couldn't control the reflex as his neck muscles jerked his head as far away from the jar as they could without actually decapitating himself. He slapped the lid back on, his eyes watering.

"HEH-HEH-HEH… THAT SERVES YOU RIGHT FOR THE BUBBLE BATH COMMENT."

"What… is… that?"

Vincent was familiar with many different herbs and plants, his training as an assassin covered the use of toxic fauna. He had NEVER smelled anything like this jar of dried weeds.

"BACK IN THE DAYS, IT WAS KNOWN AS DREAMLEAF, OR LIFE BANE. IF IT IS USED THE WAY IT'S INTENDED, IT IS A POWERFUL MUSCLE RELAXANT AND PAINKILLER. IF YOU SMOKE IT, IT'S THE WORST MIND F*** AROUND."

"How come I have never heard of it?"

Vincent could not imagine how awful the stuff must smell when it burned.

"IT IS VERY HARD TO GROW, WHICH MAKES IT EXTREMELY EXPENSIVE. ALSO… IF IT IS USED INCORRECTLY IT CAN BE QUITE LETHAL, HENCE THE SECOND NAME."

"And you think I would like to use this, why?"

The gunman was skeptical of the demon's motives.

"IF YOU DISSOLVE A VERY SMALL AMOUNT IN A HOT TUB, THEN SOAK IN IT, IT WILL RELAX ALL OF THE STIFFNESS OUT OF SORE MUSCLES. I JUST FIGURED YOU MIGHT LIKE TO RELAX." Chaos sounded sincere. "BELIEVE ME IF YOUR UNCOMFORTABLE, I AM UNCOMFORTABLE, NO ULTERIOR MOTIVES INTENDED. I AM HURT THAT YOU DON'T TRUST ME AFTER ALL WE HAVE BEEN THROUGH."

"Yeah, right," Vincent wasn't buying it." I think I will pass on it this time."

He couldn't control his curiosity. "How do you know so much about it?"

"HMMMM, I THINK WE NEED TO ADOPT A DON'T ASK, DON'T TELL POLICY ABOUT THAT."

The demon was definitely being evasive.

After getting a glass and a nice bottle of red wine from the bar, Vincent sat on the roof and watched the crowds coming and going from the different activities in town. It was early morning before they started to disperse. Knowing he most likely wouldn't sleep that night, the ex-Turk laid back and was studying the stars when the dark morning quiet was split by a guttural scream. It started out high pitched enough to hurt his ears then traveled down the scale to end in a deep, rumbling WAH HUH HUH. A massive destria appeared in the darkness, seeming to flow down main street.

The animal glimmered silver in the moonlight. His legs and broad shoulders were striped in black. The stallion's high crested, heavy neck was bowed with his bearded chin almost touching his thickly muscled chest. The gunman could tell that the beast was fighting his rider's control every step of the way. As they came abreast of the Inn, the destria tried to twist sideways and at the same time he reared, cloven front hooves clawing at the air. Again that hair raising scream echoed through the night. The General flung his horned head high, sharp fanged mouth gaped to its widest, his long silver mane swirling in the wind of his passage. Ice cold feral green eyes locked with crimson ones for a moment. Vincent could see hate, rage and insanity mixed there in equal amounts.

Chrysta managed to stick with the beast and make the turn leading into the courtyard. Valentine heard the back door bang open as Grant came out. The General saw the big man and made a gape mouthed lunge at him. Chrysta had a double handful of reins and she hauled hard, turning his head as she drove her heels into her steed's sensitive sides. He turned, and sprang forward, hooves striking sparks from the pavement. The woman rode him hard into the reinforced paddock and as they passed one of the posts she flipped a rope over it, throwing the end to Grant. The other end was clipped into a thick leather and steel collar that went around the General's neck just behind that horned ridge. The bartender, moving surprisingly fast for such a burly man, pulled the slack out and the stallion ended up with his head locked down close to the post.

The rider slid off and somehow Chrysta un-cinched the saddle in the same motion. When the General lashed out sideways with a sharp hind hoof she was already out of range, saddle in hand. She moved gracefully to the animal's head and threw the saddle over the top rail. Vincent realized with a start that there was no sign of the woman's former limp. Grant tightened his hold on the rope as she reached up to remove the bridle. Somehow, even with his head immobilized, the stallion stuck forward with a powerful front leg. Chrysta must have had a sixth sense because she twisted away and the strike from the inside claw that that should have opened her ribcage just grazed the forearm she threw up as a shield. The ex-Turk was off of the roof and moving towards the paddock as the smell of blood filled the night air. Grant seeing the movement, caught his eye and grimly shook his head. The gunman stopped outside of the paddock but drew his weapon all the same. Chrysta had spun away from the attack and was heading, bridle in hand, towards the gate. The bartender reached up and unclipped the rope, releasing the General just as the woman stepped through and slammed the bolt closed. The whole fence shuddered as almost two thousand pounds of pissed off destria hit the gate. Grant flipped a switch turning the power back on to the fence and the General jerked away from it, voicing his frustration in a deep, hoarse roar.

"UMMMM, VALENTINE?" Chaos's normally rough voice was really quiet." I THINK I CHANGED MY MIND ABOUT WANTING YOU TO BUY ME ONE OF THOSE… YEAH…. LET'S JUST STICK WITH MOTORCYCLES. THEY'RE SAFER!"

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Thank you to all who have taken the time to review...your feedback is greatly appreciated even if this is a re-post!


	7. Chapter 7

BONUS chapter! Oh yeah...

...Fanfiction...yada yada...no money...Square Enix owns...you know the drill

To Race the Wild Wind

Ch. 7

Chrysta had her back against the gate letting it support her. The hand that she removed her helmet with then ran through her short bristly hair was shaking.

"Well wasn't that just the most fun we've had in a long while." This statement was dripping with sarcasm.

It got a snort of strained, shaky laughter from Grant,

"Seems like the last time we had this much Jim Dandy fun was last year around this time."

Vincent holstered his weapon, looking from one to the other. He could hear the pounding of heavy hooves as the General made a circuit of his paddock. The animal was still snorting angrily all the while popping his fangs to show his displeasure. The gunman decided then and there that being around destria must have an adverse affect on people's sanity.

As the woman stepped away from the gate, the stride that had seemed so smooth while dealing with the stallion became a staggered lurch as her bad leg gave out. Vincent's strong hands caught her by the shoulders and steadied her as she found her balance.

Grant, who had started back towards the kitchen door turned towards them in alarm.

Chrysta waved a hand at him.

"Go ahead Grant; I'm just sore and tired."

In the dark the bartender could not see that there was blood dripping from her fingers.

Catching Vincent's raised eyebrow she gave a small shake of her head.

"It's not that bad." She whispered," I don't see any reason to upset him."

The woman straightened and took a tentative step, testing her leg.

"Let's just see if we can make it up to the room without getting blood all over the floor. You haven't seen ANYTHING until you've seen Grant's mother hen tendencies kick in."

The way she rolled her eyes as she said this brought a smile twitching to the corner of the ex-Turk's mouth.

They made it through the darkened common room and up the staircase without running into Grant. Chrysta staggered once on the stairs and Vincent rested his hand on the small of her back to steady her. He was surprised at the strength of the muscle he felt there.

"HMPH," this was from Chaos, "SHE HAULED YOUR HEAVY ASS UP THAT RAVINE BY HERSELF! SHE TRAINS AND RIDES TWO THOUSAND POUND ANIMALS THAT WANT NOTHING MORE THAN TO HAVE HER FOR DINNER, AND YOU ARE ….SURPRISED….. SHE IS MUSCULAR. GEEZ VALENTINE, WHEN HOJO REMOVED YOUR BRAINS…DID HE FORGET TO PUT THEM BACK!?"

Vincent didn't feel that comment deserved an answer, so he just ignored the demon. The gunman did find himself checking back to make sure they hadn't tracked blood all over the floor.

Chrysta sat down at the table and turned the lamp on. She unbuttoned and rolled up her bloody torn sleeve. Vincent noticed that she had a heavy leather arm guard buckled around her forearm. The tough leather had been neatly sliced about two inches below the elbow to right above her right wrist. The woman swore softly as she fumbled left handed with the buckles made slick with blood.

"Here," Vincent couldn't stand it." Let me help."

Carefully slipping one claw under the strap he easily sliced through it. The second and third parted just as easily.

"Thanks," she murmured absently as she peeled the wet leather off of her arm. Blood puddle at an alarming rate on the table top.

"Hmmm," Chrysta's face whitened considerably at the sight of the freely bleeding gash. "CRAP! That's a little worse than I initially thought."

She clamped her left hand above the wound slowing the bleeding.

"Could you get the med. kit for me? It's in that cabinet, top shelf, left hand side."

The woman gestured with her chin to give Vincent some idea of where to look.

Vincent rummaged around in the cabinet.

"Why don't you just use a CURE?"

That got a dry chuckle from her.

"CURE'S are hard to come by this far out, the ones we have, we save for true emergencies. Injuries like this are quite common when working with destria, old fashioned techniques work just fine for them"

The gunman just didn't see the med kit she wanted.

"MMM, VINCENT, FAR BACK LEFT HAND CORNER, BESIDE THE PIC….."Chaos's voice trailed off into shocked silence.

Vincent removed the picture, forgetting about the med kit. In the photo, Chrysta stood with another man in front of a destria that could only be the General. Mounted on the beast's back, was his namesake, Sephiroth. As surprising as seeing the young general was, that was not what caused him to spin around.

Slamming the photo down in front of the startled woman he gritted out,

"Who is that man?!"

Chrysta met his blazing red eyes with shadowed green ones.

"I am assuming that you don't mean General Sephiroth. The man on the right is Dr. Forest Derai. He worked for Shinra in their genetic development department under Professor Gast and Hojo. You might recognize him. He would most certainly have recognized you."

Vincent's breath hissed through his teeth, he did recognize the man in the photo. In his shaky memories the doctor had been a lot younger, but he definitely remembered seeing him many times while he had been one of Hojo's specimens.

"Please don't judge him harshly Valentine. By the time he realized what was going on he was in over his head and he had no way out. Forest was not cruel; he was just caught in a situation he could not escape."

Chrysta's tired eyes never left Vincent's face. They were drawn at the edges and clouded with pain, both emotional and physical. The gunman realized his hand was clamped over her injured arm. Bright red blood oozed between his fingers to drip on to the table top. He drew a shuddering breath and forced himself to release her wrist. Turning, the ex-Turk strode over to the open window absently wiping her blood off of his hand.

"Judge him! How can you sit there and defend him?"

His voice was harsh as he wrestled with unpleasant memories plus his internal demons and not just the figurative ones. Chaos was raising a ruckus trying to get his attention and the ex-Turk was having difficulties ignoring him.

"Nobody is so terrible that they don't deserve to be loved." Chrysta's voice was soft but unapologetic.

Vincent spun around to face her.

" WHAT…. Where is he?" Without realizing it his hand dropped to his gun.

"Not anywhere that you can find him." The woman remained seated, her face as still and quiet as her body. The gunslinger drew Cerberus without thinking; damn it… he would have the answer out of her. The woman across from him slowly stood up. It was not fear but anger that made the eyes that met his over the barrels of the gun as cold and as clear as green glass. The golden rings around the green seemed to light into flame. He felt Chaos's utter disbelief match his own as she turned her back to the gun and limped heavily towards the bathroom.

"He is where nothing can reach him, not hatred, not the need for revenge, not even the love of his wife." Chrysta stopped for a moment and her shoulders sagged as a soft sigh escaped her." Forest is quite dead, Vincent Valentine."

She disappeared behind the door and he could hear her turn the water on in the sink.

The gunman managed one step toward the door when a sharp pain stabbed through his leg making it cramp up. He staggered and caught himself on the window sill.

"HAH! THAT GOT YOUR ATTENTION, DIDN'T IT?"

Chaos most definitely had his attention. Vincent had the disconcerting feeling of the demon riffling through his memories. Scene after scene he brought up for the ex-Turk to remember. Dr. Forest Derai HAD been there during many of the experiments that Hojo had performed on him. What the demon showed him was that the man had tried to help him in any little way he could. If he had to draw blood or do a procedure it was done with care. He tried to not cause pain or discomfort as much as possible. There had been several times when the kindness was as simple as covering Valentine with a warm blanket, while the…specimen… lay exposed, in pain, and shivering, strapped to an exam table. There had even been an incident or two where Forest had purposely drawn Hojo's wrath down on himself trying to distract the scientist away from some particularly gruesome planned experiment.

"I BELIEVE WORKING FOR HOJO WAS PROBABLY A FORM OF TORTURE TO DR. DERAI. YOU OF ALL PEOPLE SHOULD KNOW HOW SHINRA, THE TURKS AND HOJO DEALT WITH PEOPLE WHO RAISED WAVES OR CAUSED PROBLEMS FOR THEM."

The demon's normally rough voice was very soft.

Vincent leaned his aching head against the side of the window allowing the cool night breeze to dry the sweat off of his brow.

"Did he know about you and the … others?" he asked.

"YES, UNFORTUNATELY, HE HAD A COUPLE OF ENCOUNTERS WITH THE GALIAN BEAST, AND HE WAS… INTRODUCED…. TO ME. I BELIEVE THIS WAS IN RESPONSE TO A COMPLAINT HE MIGHT HAVE MADE." Chaos sounded apologetic." I AM AFRAID I FRIGHTENED HIM QUITE BADLY."

"Hnnn, I'm willing to wager that's an understatement."

Vincent straightened and turned around as the bathroom door opened and Chrysta came out, her forearm wrapped in a towel. She had removed her torn shirt and he realized that under it she wore a matching guard on her left arm and a hard leather vest that protected her upper back, chest and ribs. There was a soft shirt underneath. Glancing at the silent gunman out of the corner of her eye, she went over to the cabinet and retrieved the med. kit. The ex-Turk crossed his arms and watched as she dug out bandaging material and an antiseptic.

"THAT REALLY NEEDS TO BE STITCHED CLOSED," Chaos observed.

"I know," Vincent sighed. He repeated the demon's opinion to the woman who was wiping the wound with gauze soaked in the antiseptic.

"Yep," she flicked her uninjured left hand in his direction." I am right handed, can't do jack with my left. And I am NOT drawing Grant's attention to this."

This last part was muttered under her breath.

Vincent winced as Chaos gave him an ungentle mental nudge and his leg tingled in warning.

"STOP that," he silently ordered the demon before turning his attention back to his companion." I can stitch that if you want?"

The offer was made without much hope of her accepting it.

Chrysta looked at him, her chestnut eyebrows arched in surprise.

"Do I want to ask where you learned to tie a stitch?"

"No, just be satisfied that I learned from the best."

Valentine sat down opposite her and slipped the towel under her arm. Without any warning he poured the antiseptic directly into the long, S shaped gash, flushing it out. The firm grasp of his gauntleted hand prevented the woman from jerking it away as she hastily smothered a yelp of pain with her left hand.

"Holy SHIT, Valentine, at least warn me before you do something like that!" This was hissed in a pained whisper. "The last thing we need is Grant popping in on us!"

The gunman didn't say a word. He knew that with the way the wound had to be stinging she wouldn't even feel the prick of the curved needle as he started a row of small, neat stitches.

He had just placed the last one when he heard Grant coming up the stairwell. Chrysta's head jerked up, she had been resting her chin in her hand watching his agile fingers, seemingly mesmerized. Her wide eyes met his. The ex-Turk didn't get it. The woman faced down a known killer over the barrel of a gun without flinching but the sound of those footsteps had her totally panicked. Without thinking he swept the medical supplies into his lap and covered them with the towel. He was rewarded with the flash of grateful eyes and a mouthed "Thank you" as the door opened.

Grant stood in the doorway for a moment looking at them. If the bartender had any suspicions they didn't make it to his placid face. He was carrying a tray with a couple of covered bowls, two small glasses and a slim bottle of an almost electric blue liquid.

"It's late…you should be in bed and I'd be willing to wager gil that you have had nothing but coffee and Anesthetic since this morning."

This was directed at Chrysta. The big man set the tray down on the table. He fixed Vincent with a stern glare.

"You will NOT let her touch that…" a blunt finger was savagely stabbed at the blue liquid, "… until she finishes this."

Dark brown held the red for a moment then, with a slight nod, the man set one of the bowls in front of Chrysta and uncovered it. He set the other bowl in front of the startled gunslinger. Another piercing glare was sent Vincent's way then with a harrumphing noise the man turned and strode out of the room.

Vincent cleared his throat.

"Is that what you meant about mother hen Grant?"

"UmmHumm," she answered.

Chrysta was pale and she did look exhausted. The woman was swirling her spoon through the savory smelling soup, but had yet to take a bite.

Very casually Vincent reached out to slide the bottle over to his side of the table keeping his gauntleted hand wrapped around it. He met her astonished look with a smirk.

"As per ordered… when you have finished your dinner, you can have some of this."

The smirk turned into a self satisfied smile as he watched Chrysta swallow whatever she was going to say and obediently start eating.

* * *

I thought I would post an extra before I go prune myself in the bath...moved hay all day!


	8. Chapter 8

Thank you to all of you who are leaving reviews and feedback. I appreciate every one of you! This is a fanfiction. I make no profit from it. Square Enix holds all rights to the FFVII world and its characters. I own the rights to the original portions of this story and to my original characters.

To Race the Wild Wind Chapter 8

As Vincent watched the woman across from him work her way through her meal he noticed that her face, which had been quite pale, became slightly flushed. Chrysta was awkwardly spooning up her soup left handed, the right one was carefully cradled in her lap. With a sigh, the woman finished the last spoonful, and setting her spoon down, she tilted up the bowl to prove she had finished.

She crooked her right index finger at the bottle.

"Now GIVE!" she demanded.

Vincent's attention was caught by the line of stitches marching down her forearm. The wound was red and slightly swollen.

"What the hell,"

The ex-Turk reached out, trapping her hand so he could get a closer look.

"This should not have gotten infected that fast."

"It isn't infected."

Chrysta gave her arm an unconcerned look. When she looked back up, the gunman saw that her usually clear eyes were slightly glazed and her pupils were dilated.

"The inside spur on a destria's front leg is venomous. That's how a creature that looks so much like a prey animal is capable of hunting. Any time they inflict a wound with those spurs they inject a nerve toxin. It slows prey down and causes mental confusion. Inject enough of it and it can kill."

Vincent's eyebrows just about crawled up into his hairline.

"No worry's though," she smiled at his astonished look, "I have been poked, scratched, scraped and slashed enough that I am practically immune to the stuff. This little bit will give me a mild fever and some aches and pains, then wear off…. NOW…"

The look she gave him was hard and grim,

"If you don't unhand that bottle, I am going to have to take it from you. If that happens I will NOT be sharing!"

Bemused, the gunman slid the bottle over to her. Uncorking it, the woman poured an equal measure of the brilliant blue liquid into each small glass.

"This is something Grant dreamed up. He calls it… Anesthetic… and he only makes a very small amount each season."

Chrysta handed one glass to Vincent while raising the other in a silent toast.

"Gods Bless Grant and his magical touch with alcohol."

She downed half the glass in one swallow, and then glanced at him, the look on her face one of total innocence. Vincent carefully sniffed the drink. It had very little smell. Chrysta watched him, one eyebrow cocked sardonically. He raised the glass to his lips and meeting her eyes over the rim, he drained it. The alcohol also had very little taste and it made his mouth tingle on the way down. He became worried when her lips twisted up in a truly wicked smile.

The ex-Turk set the glass down then froze as what felt like a bomb ignited in his innards. He tried to suck a breath in, but couldn't, as sweet, honey flavored fire scorched up through his throat into his mouth and nose. For a moment the gunman was paralyzed as the flame flashed from fire to ice leaving everything from his lips to his stomach strangely numb. Then it warmed back to a pleasant heat that extended out through his whole body.

"WOW!" Chaos was impressed

"WOW!" Vincent was impressed.

Chrysta snickered and finished her drink. She split what was left in the bottle between the two glasses and gathering up a wrap for her arm she rose unsteadily to her feet.

"Well, Mr. Valentine, as pleasant as this has been, sunrise is almost here and I had better try to get a couple of hours of sleep before festival starts."

She limped back to the bathroom. Vincent carefully sipped his drink, studiously ignoring the various bangs and thumps emanating from the small room. When his roommate came out she was in a long {granny?} nightgown. She glanced his way just daring him to make a comment. Chrysta had her leathers and clothes in one hand and her drink carefully balanced in the other, neatly wrapped one. The gunman found himself cocking his head sideways as he watched her make her way to the duvet. The woman was definitely listing.

With a quiet sigh, Chrysta collapsed onto her makeshift bed, dropping the clothes, but NOT the drink. She took another small sip and set the half empty glass on the window sill. Slipping under the old fashioned quilt the woman rolled onto her good side wrapping up like a mummy and the gunslinger would have sworn that before he even reached up to turn off the light she was asleep.

Vincent envied his companion that ability. He was pleasantly tired but not enough to try sleeping. Nightmares still haunted his dreams so he only indulged in sleep when he absolutely had to. Quietly strolling to the window, the ex-Turk slipped out and made his way to the roof. He spent the remaining part of the night enjoying the cool of the early morning breeze and watching the eerie beauty of the General as he prowled and paced around his paddock.

Sunrise was preceded by the sound of feet coming up the stairs and a soft knock on the door. Vincent was just coming back through the window, when Grant quietly opened the door and stuck his head in. He seemed quite surprised to see the gunman awake. Chrysta on the other hand had her head buried under her pillow, her right arm thrown over it. Grant nodded at Vincent and came in to lay a bundle of clean clothes and leathers by the duvet and set a couple of cups on the sill. The ex-Turk caught the murderous look the big man threw the General's way when he saw the bandaging. The bartender glanced at the gunman with a questioning look on his face. Vincent gave a slight shake of his head and mouthed "Not serious," at him. The man's face relaxed imperceptibly. He was reaching to shake the sleeping woman awake when a muffled voice emanated from under the pillow.

"GRANT, you had better have brought some coffee up with you,"

The woman's hand made random groping motions. Grant slipped one of the cups he had brought up into it and Chrysta's blurry eyed face popped out from under the pillow.

She took a gulp of the hot black liquid before she even sat up,

"Bless you Grant! Gods I do HATE festival week."

"Hrmph… so retire," was the barman's unsympathetic answer.

Grant had turned away to hand Vincent the other steaming cup so he did not get the full impact of the dirty look that was shot his way. Scooping up the untidy pile the woman had left by the duvet, and retrieving the bowls from the night before, the barman headed toward the door.

"I've got breakfast on; you had better hustle if you are going to bring Don Ricardo's bunch in for the parade."

As Grant slipped out the door he gave the gunman a cryptic smile,

"Don't turn your back on her where your coffee is concerned."

The big man just barely got the door shut before her pillow smacked into it.

Chrysta hissed as she got off of the duvet and slowly straightened up. Vincent watched in amazement as she poured the half glass of Anesthetic left from the night before into her coffee. He could feel Chaos' internal shudder at the thought of the combination.

Limping heavily, the woman disappeared into the bathroom taking her clothes and cup with her.

Vincent spent a good part of the morning exploring and watching the town prepare for the parade which would signal the start of festival. People appeared out of nowhere until the whole of Main Street was lined with chairs, stands and large crowds. All of the businesses seemed to pitch together to set up a four foot tall barrier between the street and the crowds. When it got so crowded that Chaos became irritable and he became uncomfortable, he headed up to the Ironwood's roof to wait for the parade. The gunman was surprised when about half an hour before it was suppose to start, Grant joined him there. He brought some snacks and a cold pitcher of the dark brew that Vincent had enjoyed on the first day, packed in ice.

Settling himself on the roof beside the ex-Turk he poured them a glass of beer.

"You picked the perfect vantage point to watch." He gestured with the beer, "We got a clear view and we don't have to fight the crowds." Taking a sip, the big man sighed contently. "Perfect."

The first parade participants that came through was a couple of drafters pulling a gaudily decorated wagon filled with the town officials and their various spouses. As the next wagons rumbled through, Grant helpfully pointed out different important personages and commented on who decorated the floats and wagons. Leaning forward he applauded loudly and whistled as one float full of giggling young ladies rolled by. They turned and waved. Vincent recognized the drafters that Chrysta had been driving the morning before. Grant informed him that most of the draft destria in the parade would be participating in a load pulling contest later in the week. Don Ricardo's pair was a favored team.

The gunman sat quietly and let Grant's comments wash over him. The barman spoke in such a way that Vincent did not feel pressured into carrying a conversation. This was something that he was thankful for. In the next couple of hours he got an in depth education on how the destria evolved from killing machines used only in war to the very versatile animal it was now. He had the differences between the heavy rumped sprinters and the long lean milers pointed out to him. And he learned what it took to be an endurance racer.

When a group of scarred, thick muscled stallions paraded past, each long lined between two heavily leathered and padded escorts, he was told how some animals were used for pit fighting. Grant made it clear that although this evidently was a very popular sport, he had nothing to do with it as he felt it was barbaric. Vincent could hear the General issuing a challenge from his paddock which made one of the fighters veer sideways, rearing and bugling in answer.

These animals had caught Chaos's interest,

"I'LL BET THAT WOULD BE SOMETHING TO SEE."

"Hnnn, I don't think so!"

Vincent did not share the demon's taste for blood letting. He sipped his beer and watched a large group of destria being herded down the parade route. The men driving them whooped and yelled showing off in front of the crowd. He recognized the outriders as the group of young men who had caused problems for Grant.

Grant leaned forward studying the animals intently.

"Ah….. Don Diego's son still hasn't learned that quantity doesn't equal quality."

There was a smug smile on the man's face, which was suddenly erased as the mass of animals parted. Striding amongst the others was an elegant golden beast, that was nothing but quality. The stallion carried his horned, ridged, head proudly with his white mane flowing around his high crested neck. Grant whistled softly,

"Now… where the hell did Rave find him?"

The next group was rapidly pushing through, and Grant pointed out last year's winner of the Gauntlet. This turned out to be a smallish animal that was a nondescript dusty grey and who had a terribly crooked front leg. . Vincent glanced sideways at the older man to see if he was pulling his leg. Grant shook his head earnestly.

"No really, it surprised everyone; he had one hundred to one odds. I wish I had bet a few Gil on him."

Chrysta led the next herd of animals in. This was Don Ricardo's herd. All of them were slick and shining with good health. Compared to the number of animals that the others had brought in, Ricardo's only numbered thirty. Grant pointed out that seven of them were ones that Chrysta had bred and owned. She rode Zephyr and one of the stable hands was on Nuva. The old mare pranced and snorted, showing off like she really enjoyed all of the attention.

Grant nudged Vincent and pointed out the long limbed stallion being led by Chrysta. This animal was a solid unbroken red. He was almost the color of freshly spilled blood. The eyes that flashed fiercely under the brow ridges were the hot orange yellow of an open flame. His stride was as smooth as oil sliding on water.

"That's Inferno; he will be the one to put your Gil on in the Gauntlet this year!"

Grant grinned,

"If he runs anything like his sire, nothing here can touch him,"

Vincent watched silently as the hot tempered animal tried to take a bite out of Chrysta's leg. Doubling up her fist she knocked the fanged mouth away from her. Vincent frowned…she had better NOT pop the stitches he had worked so hard on last night!

"Who is Inferno's sire?" He asked. The ex-Turk had the feeling he already knew the answer.

Grant frowned,

"I can almost understand why Chrysta keeps that monster around when that is what you get when you breed to him." The man sighed, "His sire is the General."

As his crimson eyes followed the group's progress down the parade rout, Vincent couldn't help but wince at the bartender's use of the word…..monster.

* * *

As an early Christmas present I am going to try and get all of this story re-posted before christmas.


	9. Chapter 9

Thank you to all of you who are leaving reviews and feedback. I appreciate every one of you! This is a fanfiction. I make no profit from it. Square Enix holds all rights to the FFVII world and its characters. I own the rights to the original portions of this story and to my original characters.

* * *

To Race the Wild Wind Ch. 9

Vincent realized in the first day or two of festival that Chrysta had not been joking when she said she kept odd hours. Between the various competitions she was entered in on Don Ricardo's and her own behalf and her unofficial title of Town Vet, her visits to the room they shared were sporadic at best. More often then not, she was there with one of the locals, treating or stitching up a multitude of destria inflicted or bar fight injuries. It seemed the town's people shared Chrysta's views on the high cost of CURES and medical care from the town Doc.

On Grant's recommendations, Vincent occupied his time attending various events and even played a little poker at one of the smaller, less populated casinos. Again, taking the barkeep's advice, he left his scarlet cloak and Cerberus in his room. Dressed in simple black he found that other than the odd glance or two that his clawed hand attracted, most people treated him as just one of the crowd. The races were scheduled to start on the morning of the festival's third day. He hoped he could pin Chrysta down long enough to pick her brains on which animals he should wager on.

Late the afternoon of the festival's second day, Vincent was snagged by Grant as he headed up to the room. He needed a break from the afternoon heat and crowds. The bartender beckoned him over whilst sending one of his girls to the kitchen.

"I don't usually interfere,"…the older man stated.

Liar…was the thought that slunk across Vincent's mind…Chaos snickered at this.

"TAKES ONE TO KNOW ONE!"

Before the gunman could respond….Grant continued,

"…but I know Chrysta hasn't eaten since the Gods knows when, and I am willing to bet you haven't either."

The young woman had reappeared, a tray piled high with sandwiches and other tasty snacks. A frosty pitcher of iced tea was in her other hand.

Grant's face took on a conspirator's look,

"Now if I take these up, they will most likely go to waste. I am sure if you make it seem like YOUR idea, Chrysta just might take some time to ingest something other than coffee or Anesthetic."

The man's soft brown eyes and smile were guileless.

"Hnnn,"

Vincent accepted the tray and pitcher, his stoic expression gave no hint of the thought running through his mind. {Didn't usually interfere my ass, the man was also sneaky, manipulative and very good at hiding it!}

The ex-Turk managed to make it up the stairs and jockey the door open without dropping either the tray or the tea. Chrysta was sprawled, fully clothed on the duvet. Her left arm was thrown over her face shielding it from the late afternoon sun. Thinking his roommate was asleep, Vincent set his burden down as quietly as possible. He was taken by surprise when he heard a soft buack, buack, buack, come from the duvet. Chrysta looked at him from under almost closed eyelids, grinning. When she was sure she had his attention, the obnoxious woman made another series of mother hen sounds again. This drew another snide snicker from Chaos.

"I was going to bring it over to you so you didn't have to get up. But for that…" Vincent gestured at the table, "…you can drag your butt off of there and come eat like a civilized person."

This earned him a snort of laughter as the woman levered herself into a standing position then limped over to join him. Valentine wasn't hungry, his altered metabolism could make due on very little. He knew from experience though that people eat better when someone else is dining with them, so he casually picked out a sandwich and took a bite. He was secretly pleased when his psychology worked and she tucked into her own sandwich with determination if not enthusiasm.

They ate their meal in companionable silence. Vincent realized that he truly appreciated that both Grant and Chrysta seemed to understand his quiet ways. Neither one of them pressured him in any way to participate in small talk or inane conversation. His friends from Avalanche, as much as he cared for them, were always trying to get him to "open" up. It was like they wanted to change him into something he was not. Granted some were more persistent at this than others. Even before his experiences with Shinra and Hojo he had not been one for conversation or overt displays of emotion. Shinra training had accentuated these traits. A Turk learned very quickly to hide what he was thinking or feeling. It was just part of the job.

A soft sigh from Chrysta brought his attention back to the present. With a start he realized that she had been quietly studying him while he was deep in thought. {GODS… he had to stop doing that! It made him vulnerable!} His companion finished her meal and pushing back from the table, got up. Limping from cabinet to cabinet the woman gathered various medical supplies and arranged them neatly in an extensive medical kit. She glanced his way and a small frown wrinkled her brow.

"I hate to ask this," Chrysta looked slightly embarrassed. "Do you have anything planned for tonight?"

"Not really." He answered.

The only events scheduled for that night were a dinner and dance {NOT happening} and the stallion pit fights. He was not attending either. Actually he had tentatively planned to just stay put and maybe make a few belated phone calls. Yuffie's last angry message could have blistered Cid's jaded ears. Vincent ignored the little mental nudges Chaos was giving him. The gunman was justifiably proud of the control he had gained over the sometimes over-bearing demon, so he was caught with his guard down when said demon snatched control for a moment.

"Actually, I was hoping you would have some spare time this evening to go over the racing forms with me for tomorrow."

His voice, under Chaos's control, came out rougher and if possible, deeper than usual.

Chrysta's chestnut brows arched in surprise but other than a piercing look sent his way, she didn't comment on the change. Vincent choked a little as Chaos rather smugly released control back to him.

"Ahhh," Chrysta's smile became a little predatory. "I will make you a deal. If you will come and give me a hand this evening, I will take some time off and attend the races with you tomorrow."

"Aren't you riding in some of the races tomorrow?"

Vincent was taken aback when Chrysta started laughing.

"Bless you Valentine."

At his confused look she took pity on him, chuckling.

"I am WAY too heavy to be a jockey in the speed races." She was still grinning, "But I will thank you for the compliment anyways."

"Hnnn,"

Vincent folded his arms, metal claws tapping lightly.

"So what do YOU have planned for this evening?" The combination of her and Grant were definitely bringing the paranoia out in him.

"The stallion pit fights are tonight, so I will be hanging out there."

Chrysta's expression gave nothing away. Vincent recoiled a little. The stallion fights were something he had NO interest in attending.

Chrysta gave a small satisfied nod,

"No, I am not going to watch. I will be in the barn providing veterinarian care. Sometimes I need another pair of hands or just someone to provide brute strength in putting some of these guys back together. Neither one of my stable hands can stomach the violence or the blood. You seem to have no problem on either account and could even be of help with some of the stitching."

Vincent felt Chaos perk up at the mention of blood and violence.

"COME ON VALENTINE, THIS SOUNDS LIKE A LOT MORE FUN THEN DEALING WITH YOUR OBNOXIOUS GIRLFRIEND."

"Yuffie is NOT my girlfriend!"

Although to be honest, the demon did have a point. Vincent ruthlessly squelched the little stirring of guilt as he agreed to give the hopeful woman in front of him a hand. He would just have to make his calls some other time.

It was very late that night when a much subdued Vincent Valentine returned to the Ironwood. Even Chaos had had more blood and, let's face it, more chaos than even he could stomach.

"I think I have done more stitching tonight than I have done in my entire life," he told the quiet demon. He was a little surprised when he received no answer.

If Chrysta had given any inkling of how traumatic the night would be, he probably would not have agreed to go. Destria after destria had come through the vet barn. A few owners had actually paid for CURES and as soon as they could get the animals pieced back together, the worst of the damage was healed. These were the lucky ones. Others Chrysta did what she could with traditional techniques; this entailed not only a tremendous amount of cleaning, stitching and bone setting, but also a true element of danger. More than once both her and the ex-Turk were slashed at, snapped at or thrown into the wall. Some stallions had been so badly injured that they could do nothing for them. Chrysta had gently and professionally eased each one of these into the long sleep of death. As the long night had worn on, the woman had gotten more and more quiet. In the end, she had sent the gunman off, telling him she could deal with the clean-up. Her usually bright eyes had been dulled by unshed tears.

When Vincent walked into the Ironwood, Grant took one look at his haggard face and bloodstained clothes, without a word the bartender poured him a brandy snifter full of Anesthetic and sent him up to his room. The gunman was standing in front of the open window, watching a storm roll in when Chrysta finally came into the courtyard. The woman moved like she was totally exhausted. The underbelly of the storm lit up as lightening danced between the clouds. A cold rain had started to fall. The rumble of thunder hid the small sound of a gate swinging open from her, but the ex-Turks enhanced hearing picked it up.

"VALENTINE…MOVE!"

Chaos had seen what both Chrysta and Vincent had missed in the darkness of the storm. The General's paddock gate was unlocked and swinging in the wind. The weary woman saw it at the same time as the General did. She froze as the big stallion started his charge. Vincent didn't hesitate; he dove through the window, releasing control over to Chaos. The demon landed between the startled human and the attacking animal, his mind racing. He did not want to kill this beast. Black wings fanned wide, and Chaos spread his arms out, talons extended, making himself as large and intimidating as possible. Crouching slightly, he met the General's rage and hate with his own.

The startled destria put the brakes on, his cloven hooves sliding wildly on the wet flagstones. The stallion came to a shuddering stop just inside the open gate. Snorting, with his neck arched and his regal head held high, he stepped almost daintily over the line then approached the motionless demon.

Chaos heard Chrysta's soft intake of breath as the beast reached out, nostrils flared, and delicately sniffed at the tip of one leathery wing. Blowing softly, the big animal followed the line of the wing until his sharp fanged muzzle was breathing warm breath on the tense demon lord's face. The stallion drew back slightly and his jewel-like green eyes studied the demon's gold ones. Making no threatening moves, the soft muzzle gently bumped Chaos's shoulder then rested against the demon's grey cheek. Shocked beyond belief Chaos remembered his host's experience with Nuva. He forced himself to relax and carefully exhaled.

The General whuffled softly, sharing breaths with him. The demon suddenly found himself overwhelmed with a powerful wave of emotions. These triggered corresponding chords in his mind. Despair, rage, loneliness, and the humiliating feeling of being trapped rolled through him, all of it underscored by a fierce intelligence. It was like taking a savage punch to the guts. Chaos jerked back, breaking the contact. The big destria chortled quietly, and then turning away, he slowly and with great dignity returned to his enclosure.

The demon couldn't control the rage he felt as he found himself forced to be the great stallion's jailer. His taloned hands shook as he closed and latched the gate. Spinning, hot angry eyes settled on the motionless woman and she became the target for his rage as

he advanced on her,

"BY WHAT RIGHT DO YOU KEEP HIM CAPTIVE!?" His dark voice was an enraged growl.

"HE IS A SENTIENT BEING AND YOU ARE HOLDING HIM AGAINST HIS WILL. THIS IS NOTHING MORE THAN SLAVERY!"

Chrysta's eyes widened warily as the dark demon advanced and she slowly backed up. At this last comment though, those eyes narrowed and her legendary temper exploded to life.

"How dare you judge me?"

The woman didn't scream or yell. Her normally husky voice deepened to a growl that almost matched Chaos' own. Chrysta stalked up until she was right in his face.

"What in the nine hells do you expect me to do with him? It's not like I can just turn him loose. In case you have forgotten… they… EAT…. People! I made a promise a long time ago and I am keeping it to the best of my ability. That bastard can try to make me kill him all he wants, it's NOT happening, and YOU {Oh my gods, the demon thought, she can't possibly be poking ME} don't know enough about the situation to be giving me a shit about it!"

Chaos found himself in a quandary. Human females ALWAYS ran screaming in terror from him. When that didn't happen, it was usually in battle and they ended up very, very dead. He had his own rage barely in hand, and he knew Valentine would make his life hell if he harmed this woman.

They say there is a fine line between anger and passion and without thinking about it the demon caught her hand in his and jerking her forward the last couple inches, he silenced her by covering her mouth with his. Being gentle wasn't in his nature and his sharp fangs cut those soft lips, flooding his mouth with the richness of her blood. The taste was amazing, sweet, and smoky with an underlying spiciness that must come from her close association with the destria. For the second time in the space of a few moments the demon found himself shocked to his very core when her lips parted and she returned the kiss with a hunger that was damned near equal to his own. He was the one who reluctantly…breathlessly… ended it.

They stood still for a moment, face to face, warm breath mingling in the cold night air.

"VALENTINE WOULD BIRTH A CHOCOBO IF HE WERE AWARE OF THIS."

Chaos noticed the red of her blood mingling with the rain at the corner of that sweet mouth. He had a brief savage fight with himself not to lick it off. The woman stepped back wiping it with her bandaged arm. The demon blinked; there was some of his black blood there.

Chrysta's eyes were a dark stormy green as she looked him up and then down.

"Yeah… but I'll bet you would be one HELL of a wild ride!"

She grinned and headed for the door. The demon lord stood motionless, the rain dripping slowly off of his wing tips. His mouth worked, savoring the taste of her sweet, spicy blood mixed with his own. A taloned hand lifted, lightly brushing his lips. DAMN, he thought, how the hell, and when, had she managed to bite his tongue?

* * *

As always, your feedback is greatly appreciated.


	10. Chapter 10

This is a fanfiction. I make no money from it. (But if you like my writing and want to read some of my original work I DO have a short story published through Kindle! just ask) Square Enix holds all rights to the FFVII world and its characters. I own the rights to my original characters and the original parts of this story line!

To Race the Wild Wind CH.10

Warm spicy breath being huffed into his face greeted Vincent when he regained awareness. He had a brief moment of anxiousness. Where had Chaos deposited him this time? The demon's warped sense of humor had caused the gunman to awaken in some very interesting places. Opening his eyes, the ex-Turk found himself looking up at Nuva's long face. She was hanging over her stall door trying to nose him awake. Judging from the amount of moist destria slobbers adorning his nose, forehead, and cheeks, she had been doing this for quite a while.

"Yuck!"

The man rolled away from the concerned animal, scrubbing at his face. Chaos was suspiciously quiet. Usually when the demon pulled a prank that he thought was funny, he was right there to reap his reward of earned chuckles.

Vincent regained his feet, groaning softly as his abused body protested the movement. The transition to Chaos still did not come easily and he paid a physical toll whenever it happened. The gunman had no recollection of the events after the transformation, but he had a sudden vivid image of a gate swinging open and a lightening lit, wicked, General in full charge.

He staggered out of the barn and into the dim light of the false dawn. The courtyard was quiet. The General was safely locked in his paddock. The big animal, startled out of sleep and grumpy because of it, popped his formidable teeth together as the gunman passed.

"Chaos, what happened last night?"

Vincent felt the demon hesitate before answering.

"I….HMM…. WENT STORM RIDING."

Chaos flashed him a brief image of flying along the storm's leading edge, racing the wild wind and dancing with the lightening.

Vincent shuddered; it was almost better NOT knowing how the demon lord used his body when they exchanged places. No wonder he woke up hurting! He realized that Chaos was deliberately distracting him from his original question.

"What happened HERE?" he waved irritably in the direction of the closed paddock gate.

The ex-Turk felt his chest tighten as he hurried through the kitchen and up the stairwell, damn it he LIKED Chrysta. He didn't know what would be worse, that she had been hurt by the General, or frightened to death by Chaos.

"HEY, THAT'S NOT FAIR!" The demon sounded genuinely peeved. "I RETURNED THE DESTRIA TO HIS… PRISON… WITHOUT ANY VIOLENCE."

Prison? That statement stopped Vincent in his tracks, but the next had him staggering to lean weakly against the closed door of the room,

"THEN… I INTRODUCED MYSELF TO CHRYSTA." Chaos's voice had gone from peeved to smug.

Oh, GODS was the thought in Vincent's head as he carefully opened the door a crack and looked in. He fully expected Grant to be there with his shotgun loaded and ready. No such thing, the room was quiet in the pre-dawn light. Chrysta was rolled up in her quilt sound asleep on the duvet. She looked totally unharmed except for a small cut on one side of her generous lower lip

Vincent slipped in and made a bee line for the bed, maybe he could get a couple of hours of much needed sleep.

"This doesn't get you off of the hook though," he told his head's co-inhabiter. "I expect a detailed account of what happened out there in the morning."

"OH, YOU WILL HAVE TO GET THAT FROM CHRYSTA," Chaos replied. "A GENTLEMAN NEVER KISSES AND TELLS."

"WHAT!" Vincent sat straight up at this comment.

"NO… REALLY VINCENT," the demon's voice was deadly serious. "YOU NEED TO FIND OUT JUST HOW MUCH CHRYSTA KNOWS ABOUT YOU AND ….US…. MY RELATIONSHIP TO YOU IS NOT COMMON KNOWLEDGE OUTSIDE OF AVALANCHE AND DEEPGROUND. I CAN"T IMAGINE THAT HOJO LET HER LATE HUSBAND RETIRE WITHOUT SOME CONDITIONS ON HIS BEING SILENT ABOUT SHINRA'S EXPERIMENTS. EVEN SO, SHE DID NOT SEEM AT ALL SURPRISED BY MY SUDDEN APPEARANCE."

"Hnnn."

Vincent lay back down, disturbed more than he cared to admit by the demon's observations. On the morrow he would see what he could find out.

The "specimen" was aware of darkness, pain, and the terrifying feeling of being helplessly trapped. Vincent twisted, struggling against the restraints holding his body tight against the bloodied exam table. Cold so intense that is burned seemed to run through his veins, a residue of that day's experimental treatments.

"I don't know why you struggle so Valentine. You cannot escape, and even if you did, what would you return to?"

Hojo's face twisted into a nasty smile.

"Who would accept the monster that you are now?"

The "good" Doctor's nerve grating voice was full of contempt. Some part of the ex-Turk's mind was aware that this was not real, but it was buried too far down in sleep to awaken him. The sight of the scientist casually picking up a sharp torturous looking instrument already stained with his blood had him arching against the straps holding him down. His breath came in hard, short, panicked gasps.

"Come, come Vincent you might as well just lie still and enjoy this, I know that I will."

Hojo's free hand dropped onto the trapped man's shoulder patting it almost companionably. For a second the gunman thought he heard another voice calling his name but he disregarded it as the strap that held his left hand and arm down parted. He struck at the hated face, his gauntlet flashing in the sunlight. In the last instant he realized the face he was striking at wasn't Hojo, and Chaos was screaming in his head. Too late, he couldn't stop the blow from falling.

"CRAP!"

With reflexes honed by years of dodging destria strikes, Chrysta twisted away. As his claw passed with in millimeters of her eyes the woman caught it at the wrist and with incredible strength…. she yanked…HARD. Vincent, his reflexes slowed by surprise and sleep, found himself flying out of the bed. He ended up on his stomach on the floor. The ex-Turk hit hard enough that the air was driven out of his lungs in a whoof. It didn't help that his room mate landed on his back with both knee's planted just under his rib cage making sure that said lungs were totally emptied. She had his gauntleted hand twisted up behind his back with his palm turned in so if he used the talons he would only pierce himself.

For a moment they froze there, Vincent gagging and gasping trying to regain his wind, and Chrysta leaning hard on his arm, her surprisingly considerable weight interfering with his single minded task.

Chrysta had her mouth very close to his ear,

"Are you AWAKE Valentine, can I let go?"

Her voice was tight with concern and something else…Pain?

The gunman got enough breath back that he was able to answer,

"I am awake."

Chrysta slowly released his arm and eased her knees out of his protesting kidneys. She ended up straddling his waist with his stunned body still pinned to the floor.

"GODS! YOU HAVE GOT TO STOP DOING THAT. ONE OF THESE DAYS YOU ARE GOING TO GET US KILLED!

Chaos sounded like he didn't know whether to laugh or scream.

"We are immortal, remember?" Vincent answered dryly.

"NOT IF YOU SUCCEED IN GIVING ME A CORONARY… HEY, WAS I IMAGINING THINGS, OR DID THAT LITTLE SLIP OF A WOMAN JUST TAKE YOU DOWN?"

The urge to laugh had evidently won out. As the demon dissolved into gales of laughter, Vincent sighed and turned his attention back to the problem at hand. Namely that he had a member of the opposite sex straddling his hips for the first time in many years.

He cleared his throat; his wind still wasn't fully back.

"Hey Chrysta?"

She leaned forward a little.

"Yes Vincent?"

He kept the tone of his voice conversational.

"I fully understand now why you don't ride destria in the speed races."

Those legs tightened alarmingly on his waist. Damn, but they were strong.

"What did you just say?"

"Oh nothing, only you may want to dismount so that I can catch my breath."

The gunman's voice was deliberately bland. Several of Vincent's friends had accused him of not having a sense of humor. They were wrong, he had one, he just didn't turn it loose that often. The prone man found himself wishing that he was in a different position so he could see the expression on her face as she carefully slid off of him. Her softly muttered "Smart ass" told him all he needed to know.


	11. Chapter 11

This is a fanfiction. I make no money from it. (But if you like my writing and want to read some of my original work I DO have a short story published through Kindle! just ask) Square Enix holds all rights to the FFVII world and its characters. I own the rights to my original characters and the original parts of this story line!

To Race the Wild Wind Ch. 11

Vincent rolled over and propped himself up against the bedside chair. The thought crossed his mind that he was lucky he hadn't brained himself on it in his sudden flight to the floor. Chrysta was sitting with her back against the bed, her arms wrapped around her knees silently watching him. Concern warred with amusement in her odd colored eyes. The gunman felt more than a little concern himself, as the woman's normally tanned face was paler than usual, with tiny lines of pain around her eyes and mouth.

"Gods, I am sorry Chrysta."

The ex-Turk was overwhelmed with guilt; he lived with the constant worry that he would be responsible for hurting a friend and it seemed to have finally happened.

"Are you okay?"

Chrysta's face creased into a sudden, warm smile.

"Valentine, you have nothing to apologize for. I am well aware that you do NOT disturb someone in the middle of a night terror incident. You seemed so distressed that I ignored what I know and touched you anyways, so technically if there is any fault, it is mine."

She shifted positions and a fleeting grimace marred the smile.

Vincent wasn't willing to release his guilt that easily.

"I hurt you, and that is unforgivable."

The smile disappeared and it was replaced by a slight frown.

"I am not injured, there is NOTHING to forgive."

"SHE IS IN PAIN AND NOT TELLING YOU. OH…. AND VINCENT, BE TACTFUL, YOU DON'T WANT TO TRIGGER HER TEMPER. YOU HAVE NO IDEA WHAT SHE MIGHT DO."

Chaos actually sounded worried.

The gunman again wondered just what had happened between the two of them the previous night.

"I can tell that you are in pain, where did I hurt you?"

This earned him a derisive snort,

"You big ninny, in case you haven't noticed, I am ALWAYS in pain. I just usually get a chance to warm things up and stretch them out before I start wrestling, then riding personages who are bigger than me!"

Her eyes had a wicked twinkle in them.

To his horror, Vincent felt a blush creep up his cheeks; damn it, what was with this woman that she had him blushing more in the last few days than he had in the last 40 years?

"AND… YOU LEARNED TO BE TACTFUL, WHERE? The demon was again caught with the uncontrollable snickers. "GODS VALENTINE, I AM SOOOO GLAD YOU DECIDED TO COME HERE. I HAVEN'T HAD THIS MUCH FUN IN DECADES."

The gunman leaned his head back and closed his eyes. He had just decided that this time he didn't need to feel guilty when Chrysta's next words registered on his already bruised ego.

"Maybe I am the one who should apologize, I am afraid I wasn't very gentle, yanking you out of bed that way. Are YOU okay?"

His crimson eyes popped open to look into her totally innocent face.

"OH NO…. TOO MUCH…..THIS IS GOING TO KILL ME!"

Chaos sounded like he was choking. Vincent wondered darkly if it was possible for the demon to laugh himself to death.

"I am just fine," the ex-Turk's voice was a total monotone.

"That's good. Then why don't you get your young butt off of the floor and help me up."

Chrysta's smile softened the sting to his wounded pride. Vincent just shook his head. With a much put upon sigh, he got up and extended his hand to her. He might as well give up now. It was evident that between her and Chaos, he was just plain screwed!

The woman took his hand in her strong grip and he steadied her as she levered herself up. The ex-Turk couldn't help but wince in sympathy at the first couple of staggering steps she took. He found it hard to believe that this was the same woman who had just moved with such speed and grace.

"Where did you learn that little trick?"

He finally gave into his curiosity. There is no way she should have been able to immobilize him that easily.

"Hmmm, that?" Chrysta waved her hand absent mindedly in the direction of the bed.

"When you are working with creatures that outweigh you by a couple of thousand pounds, give or take. There are times when speed, surprise, and knowing how to use leverage are all that separate you from being the trainer or being a destria's dinner."

She turned to look at him just before entering the washroom,

"Let's just say it comes with the territory."

Vincent's well trained Turk's intuition told him that this was not the whole story and Chaos agreed with him.

"SHE JUST TOLD A HALF TRUTH, THERE IS MORE TO IT THAN THAT,"

The gunslinger wavered for a moment, caught between wanting to push the point and his knowing what it was like to have secrets about your life you would rather not share with anyone. He was taken aback when the bathroom door opened just enough for Chrysta to stick her head through. The sharp scent of dreamleaf wafted out on the warm damp air.

"That explanation is not going to satisfy you or the other one lurking around in your mind, is it?"

She met his red gaze unapologetically.

Stunned, all he could do was shake his head.

"I… DO… NOT… LURK!"

Chaos sounded offended.

"Shut up, Chaos."

Was all Vincent said. He wanted to hear what the woman had to say.

Chrysta gave a small nod.

"Listen, let me finish here, then we can go down and watch the morning workouts. That's where you are going to pick your winners, not off of the racing forms. I have a dressage/sale demonstration this afternoon that you are welcome to watch, or not, what ever you like. We can meet up this evening and I will truthfully answer what ever questions you might have on the condition that you answer a few of my own."

The smile that she gave him seemed a little sad.

"Do we have a deal?"

Vincent thought hard about it for a moment; he did not like sharing his past.

"I WOULD IMAGINE SHE KNOWS QUITE A BIT ALREADY VINCE, WHAT HARM COULD IT DO?"

Chaos did have a point.

"I know Chaos, and it shouldn't matter, but I like her and Grant, it would hurt to be rejected by them when they realize the monster that I am."

Vincent knew that the demon could feel the weight of emotion behind his thoughts.

"VALENTINE, BELIEVE IT OR NOT, I TOO WOULD FEEL….PAIN…..IF CHRYSTA WERE TO REJECT US. BUT, DO YOU NOT WONDER THAT MAYBE….SHE….MIGHT HAVE SOME OF THESE SAME FEARS?" The demon lord's rough voice was oddly thoughtful. "BESIDES, I HAVE A SNEAKING SUSPICION THAT SHE MIGHT BE A LITTLE MORE OPEN MINDED THAN YOU REALIZE."

"Well?"

Chrysta's husky voice jerked him back to awareness. She was watching him, one chestnut brow arched up.

"Sooo, have the two of you come to an agreement, do we have a deal?"

Vincent felt his brows crawl up his forehead like they had a life of their own.

The gunslinger had a sudden epiphany… he was going to learn her secrets if it killed him.

"We have a deal."

"UMMM, VINCENT, DO YOU REMEMBER THE LAST DEAL YOU MADE WITH HER? I SEEM TO RECALL STITCHES, BLOOD, DESTRIA BITES AND KICKS." {And one really sweet kiss} This last thought Chaos kept well isolated from the rest.

The gunman stared hard at the now closed bathroom door; CRAP! was the thought that ran through his mind. How did she know just what buttons to push to get him to agree to do these things? With a sigh, he gathered up the shirt he had carelessly thrown down the night before, and then headed down the stairs to see if Grant had any much needed coffee prepared

* * *

Am working hard to get this back up before Christmas so that I can concentrate on getting "On Wings of Trust" back up and then finished... Reviews are a great motivator!


	12. Chapter 12

This is a fanfiction. I make no money from it. (But if you like my writing and want to read some of my original work I DO have a short story published through Kindle! just ask) Square Enix holds all rights to the FFVII world and its characters. I own the rights to my original characters and the original parts of this story line!

To Race the Wild Wind CH. 12

Grant, savior that he was, had the coffee hot and ready. The older man gave Vincent a long hard look.

"Kind of noisy up there this morning, is everything okay?"

He handed a cup to the waiting gunman, and filled it with the steaming black liquid.

The ex-Turk studied the other man's mild face over the rim of his cup.

"Morning calisthenics," he answered dryly.

Grant's eyes narrowed but he wisely made no other comment.

Vincent had made it through his first cup and started on the second when Chrysta made her way down the steps. He noticed that the flowing grace had returned to her limping gait.

"I TOLD YOU THAT DREAMLEAF IS MIRACULOUS STUFF." Chaos sounded a little wistful, then sly. "IT'S BEEN KNOWN TO DO ANAL RETENTIVE PERSONALITIES A WORLD OF GOOD…. YOU REALLY SHOULD TRY IT."

"Hnnn," was the only answer Vincent made.

He was busy studying the approaching woman as she made her way over to the bar. Instead of the heavy pants and shirt over protective leather gear that she usually wore, Chrysta was wearing soft, black suede leather pants and high topped boots that form fitted to her legs. Her loose shirt was white with intricate embroidery on the open collar and cuffs, and the simple black leather vest she wore over it truly accented the fact that this woman was in very good physical shape.

Since his obsession with Lucrecia, Vincent had paid very little attention to members of the opposite sex. This morning had driven home the fact that he was very much, still a man. He couldn't help but compare the older woman with the two women he was most familiar with. He was aware that Tifa was a lovely young woman with a well toned but rather petite frame. Add to that her wine colored eyes, long dark hair, and caring personality, and the gunman could see why Cloud was so protective of her. {Even though she was perfectly capable of protecting herself.} Yuffie was just now growing out of that long legged, slender, teenage look and if you could get past her abrasive personality, one could see the beautiful woman she would become, IF she lived to maturity. Chaos was betting someone would do her in out of pure aggravation some day.

Chrysta carried her tall frame with the confidence created by a lifetime of experience. Her shoulders were broad even for her five foot eight frame. Her arms and long fingered hands had been strengthened and hardened by years of handling destria and her waist was still very trim. The ex-Turk could attest to the fact that her long legs were nothing but muscle and sinew.

Grant handed her a small well filled pouch and she glanced Vincent's way, flashing him a quick smile before returning to her conversation.

Vincent sipped his coffee and continued to covertly study her. Her face's best features were those large, wide, odd colored eyes. She had high cheekbones, a straight slightly too long nose, a generous mouth, and a strong jaw line. Her chestnut hair was clipped very short, not the most attractive style but one that made sense when you spent a great deal of time wearing a helmet. No, he thought, Chrysta definitely would not meet the standard of what most men would consider beautiful or even pretty. But, when she smiled at you, and with that odd grace that was incorporated into almost every move she made, she was down right….

"HOT? SEXY? OH MY GODS, GIVE ME SOME OF THAT I WANT TO RIDE IT LIKE A MONKEY!"

Chaos's sudden intrusion into his thoughts was accompanied by a flood of lurid images.

Chrysta's head snapped around as Vincent convulsively jerked in shocked surprise, the coffee cup cracked in his hands, sounding like a gunshot.

"Chaos, STOP THAT!"

Vincent felt lucky that he hadn't inhaled the coffee that had been in his mouth. Although, the threat of drowning seemed to be the least of his problems as his body reacted in a delighted fashion to the images still rolling through his mind.

"WHAT? I'M A DEMON! I AM SUPPOSED HAVE DEPRAVED APPETITES." The demon lord was defensive. "YOU ON THE OTHER HAND DON'T HAVE THAT EXCUSE AND YOU ARE THE ONE IN CONTROL OF OUR BODY….RIGHT AT THE MOMENT."

The gunman rested his forehead in his human hand while he forced the clawed one to release the pieces of the cup. Taking deep breaths he managed to block out Chaos's input and then get his overly enthusiastic body back under control.

"Valentine?" Chrysta was at his side, her face questioning.

"Hmmm, sudden cramp," was all Vincent could think to say, while he silently cussed his demon cohort out.

"Ah-hum," was her unconvinced answer. "If you are okay now, we should be heading to the track." The woman scooped the pouch off of the bar, and blew a kiss to Grant as she headed out through the back door.

Vincent followed her out into the early morning sun. He was surprised to see that Nuva and Zephyr were already saddled and waiting for them. Chrysta attached her pouch to the big black's saddle and lithely mounted up. Zephyr danced in a tight circle waiting for the gunman to follow suit. Nuva chortled in greeting, and when he was seated, swung her heavy ridged head around to lip fondly at his knee. The old girl arched her neck and stepping high, she followed the black down the alley and out on to the main street.

They covered the couple of miles to the racing compound in relatively quick time as there were not much in the way of festival crowds this early in the morning. The security guards passed them through with no hassles, Chrysta was well known as a trainer and rider. She led them through the maze of barns and paddocks until they came to the stable marked with Don Ricardo's name. Vincent was a little surprised that along with the couple of stable hands who took custody of Nuva and Zephyr, there were also quite a few mercenaries serving as guards. These were posted in and around the stables and on the outside of some of the paddocks. He threw a questioning look at Chrysta and she gave a small shrug.

"There have been problems in the past with suspicious accidents, and animals getting poisoned," The look in her eyes matched the hard edge present in her voice. "At times, this can be a really cut throat business."

As the woman passed in front of a high walled stall, a long, lean, blood red head suddenly struck out over it. Chrysta didn't even blink as black fangs clashed together mere centimeters in front of her nose. She did however, protest and slap the slobbery muzzle away when it tried to nuzzle into her shirt.

"Damn it Inferno, you big dope! DON'T mess up the shirt."

Vincent could tell by the exasperated affection in her voice that this was an ongoing game that the two played.

Inferno deftly dodged the slap then danced away snorting in triumph over his OBVIOUS victory. Then the big red animal shook out his flame colored mane and minced up to study the gunman with eyes that burned like the heart of a star. Vincent carefully stepped back as the stallion showed an inordinate amount of interest in HIS shirt.

Chrysta smiled as she gave the ridged head a final gentle slap then headed toward the exit. As they walked, she pointed out to the ex-Turk the animals in Don Ricardo's barn that were racing that day, and she told him which ones were worth betting on.

What followed next was one of the most enjoyable days Vincent Valentine had experienced in a very long time. They spent the morning wandering the grounds and watching the racers morning workouts. When the racing actually started, Chrysta had VIP seats that afforded them a perfect view of the track, out of reach of the crowds. Her pouch it seemed had been filled by Grant with a variety of goodies and a small bottle of red wine that they shared through out the day. With her input, the gunman was able to make a little gil on some of his bets. Even Chaos was unusually quiet, seemingly content to just observe from the back of the ex-Turk's mind. The only dark spot was in the third race when a young sprinter had a bad fall in the backstretch. Chrysta explained that with over six thousand pounds per square inch balanced over one fragile leg at a time sometimes the racer's strong but thin bones broke from the stress while in full stride.

As the races for the day were finishing, they headed back to Don Ricardo's barn. When they arrived, the stable hand's had Zephyr, Nuva and a lovely almost delicate looking filly saddled and bridled. A small crowd had gathered at the adjoining arena, waiting for Chrysta's dressage demonstration. She had taken a few minutes on the walk over to explain that dressage was a historic offshoot style of riding based on the skills that destria were taught before they went into battle. Evidently there would be several buyers there interested in purchasing the filly that she would be riding. Chrysta put on her helmet and leaving Vincent at the gate with the cream and the black, she mounted the filly, which was a dramatically dappled, silver grey, and entered the arena.

Making a slight bow in the direction of her audience, Chrysta and the silver began their patterns. Vincent had ridden chocobos many times and the couple of times he had ridden Nuva had driven home the differences in the riding styles, but he had never seen anything quite like the display that this mount and rider put on. Chrysta seemed to be a part of the destria as she sat totally still {it seemed} in the saddle. The filly spun, pirouetted, leaped and preformed subtle moves that took incredible precision and control. It was like watching an elegant, beautiful dance as the great beast floated over the ground. The ex-Turk remembered how the General had battled his rider and was struck by the amount of training that had to go into producing an animal like the silver.

As the pair came to an easy stop in the center of the arena the small crowd applauded politely. A disturbance attracted the gunman's attention and he recognized Rave and several of his cronies pushing their way up to the gate.

"What a waste of time."

Rave was preening in front of his crowd, showing off as he pushed past Vincent to enter the arena.

"Imagine teaching a destria how to dance!"

The arrogant young man laughed loudly making sure everyone there observed his obvious contempt. His retinue of three laughed with him, but remained on the outside of the gate.

Chrysta turned towards the obnoxious young man, and then she motioned to someone behind Vincent. One of the stable hands took Zephyrs reins and led him into the arena to where the silver and its rider waited. Vincent was mildly surprised when five of the mercenary guards all heavily padded and shielded also entered and began to set up obstacles and very human like manikins. They positioned themselves in strategic locations around the arena. One of them handed Chrysta a long sheathed blade. She dismounted from the silver and with a lithe swing, was up on the much larger Zephyr. The stable hand led the silver filly over to the side of the arena and the woman rode the black forward to face Rave. She leaned forward a little and spoke quietly to the red head. Vincent's enhanced hearing had no problem deciphering what she said.

"Little man, you should study your history."

Rave's face flushed angrily at the contemptuous tone in that soft voice.

"These… dance moves… as you call them were used to teach destria the art of war."

As she said this, she dropped her reins and drew the sword.

Vincent saw her legs tighten around the black's sensitive sides and Zephyr spun. As he completed that move the black transformed from a quiet beast of burden to a red eyed, screaming weapon of destruction. He launched forward, meeting the mercenaries who had also drawn weapons, head on. As he passed one of the manikins Chrysta sword seem to drift out removing its head. Three of the mercenaries tried to close on the pair but Zephyr cantered in place, turning a tight circle, lashing out with teeth and hooves. Chrysta parried and slashed with her blade and all three men were forced to fall back.

The big black broke from his circle into a huge sideways trot, and two of the guards who had been closing on their left side had to scramble to get out of his way. A lightening strike with a front leg shredded a second manikin. One guard charged them and Zephyr reared striking out with those sharp, cloven front hooves. The reason for the heavy padding became clear as the man was knocked across the sand. Two others had tried to get to the destria's unprotected sides but found their way blocked by Chrysta's blade. The black still on his hind legs hopped forwards then turned, coming down to knock both men off of their feet with a swing of his heavily ridged, horned head. Breaking into a gallop Zephyr made a circuit of the arena slashing and kicking as he passed the manikins. He left none of them standing.

The mighty black then turned and charged Rave. Before he reached the man; he came to a sliding stop then reared up on quivering haunches. His scream was a guttural challenge and his lips were pulled back exposing black, killing fangs. In the space of a breath he covered the distance to the redhead with three long hops, front legs slashing the air. Rave back pedaled until he reached the fence.

Chrysta, her point made, snatched up the reins and Zephyr came to a shuddering stop directly in front of the now panicked young man. For a moment, there was complete silence, and then the small crowd was screaming and clapping, having totally enjoyed the show.

Rave's face was flushed as he looked up at Chrysta,

"I will pay you what ever you want for him." He gestured towards the now quiet black.

Chrysta shook her head.

"Zephyr is not for sale at any price."

"Fine, then I will pay twice what your buyer offers for the silver."

The man's avarice was clearly evident in his voice.

Chrysta leaned forward slightly, "I don't think that you understand Rave," her voice was very quiet. "There is not a fat chance in the nine hells that I would sell ANY of my herd to YOU."

It took a moment for her words to sink in, Rave's red face paled and his hand dropped for the gun at his side. Vincent's hand also dropped before he remembered that Cerberus was not holstered there. He did not see Chrysta move but Zephyr sprang forward, rearing up; Chrysta's blade licked out and the gun flipped into the dirt. The big black's massive chest struck the staggering man and bore him down to land on his back in the dirt, with the sharp cloven hooves on either side of his face. Rave's three companions all snatched for their weapons. Vincent caught the first man's hand before he could clear leather and with a savage twist, he broke the man's wrist. His gauntlet dropped on the second man's shoulder, biting deep into muscles and nerves, paralyzing the arm. He threw this screaming man away and spun to deal with the third. He froze at the scene that met his eyes.

Nuva had sidestepped and slipped behind the third gunman, who just happened to be the blond ex-Turk. She had her mouth locked over the back of the man's neck, and was applying just enough pressure that her fangs barely pierced his skin. This man had the presence of mind to not move and to drop his gun.

For a moment everything was still, then Chrysta signaled Zephyr somehow, and the black stepped back placing his sharp hooves very carefully. He snorted his disdain into Rave's face as he allowed the man to scramble to his feet. Nuva matched his snort as she removed her fangs from her captive's neck. The Don's son didn't say a word as he tried to brush some of the dirt off of his expensive clothes. Turning, he gathered up his injured group.

As they were leaving, Rave once more faced Chrysta and the gunman.

"This isn't over bitch!" the young man's voice was choked with embarrassment and rage.

Vincent heard Chrysta quietly murmur as she watched them leave, "No… I imagine it isn't"

She looked down at the gunman and a small smile crinkled her eyes, "Why don't you take Nuva and head back to the Ironwood, I will meet you there when I have finished with this sale."

The gunman nodded and gathering Nuva's reins he swung up into the saddle. As he was turning to leave, the woman kneed Zephyr up close to him and looked into his crimson eyes.

"Thank you," was all she said.


	13. Chapter 13

This is a fanfiction. I make no money from it. (But if you like my writing and want to read some of my original work I DO have a short story published through Kindle! just ask) Square Enix holds all rights to the FFVII world and its characters. I own the rights to my original characters and the original parts of this story line!

To Race the Wild Wind CH. 13

Vincent was up on the roof of the Ironwood when Chrysta and Zephyr came in that evening. The sun had dipped behind dark storm clouds that were gathering on the horizon. He had been stopped when he had returned with Nuva by security guards who had been posted in the courtyard, evidently one of the items that Grant and Chrysta had discussed that morning. The General's gate had to have been deliberately opened, and Chrysta was taking no chances with the unpredictable animal getting out. These same guards approached her as she dismounted and were satisfied that she belonged there.

The gunman watched as the woman led the big black into the barn, and then reappeared to take care of the General's needs. Vincent had noticed that the stable hands did not deal with the dangerous stallion. He also noticed that like the night before, while she worked around that particular destria, there was no sign of her ever present limp. After making sure he had food, water and that the gate was locked and the electricity on, she just stood for a long moment watching the beast. The General stopped his eternal prowling, and returned her look with a coldly antagonistic one of his own. With a soft sigh that the ex-Turk's hearing just barely picked up, she turned and headed towards the door. Her graceful stride was again marred by a pained limp.

It took Vincent only a few moments to slip back into the room via the window. He was surprised when there was a soft knock at the door. When he opened it, Chrysta stood there loaded down with a tray full of food and a pitcher of what looked like tea.

She eased her way into the room,

"Grant caught me before I could sneak up the stairs. I think I heard him say something about one of us being too skinny."

She looked at the gunman out of the corner of her eye as she deposited the tray on the table.

"I expect that would be you."

Vincent was a little daunted by the amount of food that the barman had sent up.

"I have no need to eat again today."

Chrysta snorted,

"Neither do I, but HE made it clear that if we don't eat, all we get to drink is….Tea!"

Her lip curled in disdain at the thought.

"I don't know about you, but I am NOT divulging my life's deep, dark secrets with nothing in my system but…TEA, so you need to either eat your share or help me figure out what else to do with it."

He eyed her hopefully,

"We could just go down and tell him we aren't hungry."

There was a snide snicker,

"Yeah, you let me know how that works out."

"Hnnn,"

Vincent wouldn't admit it, but he agreed with her assessment of the situation. "I believe I have seen several stray cats in the area."

"I like the way your mind works Valentine. Although I think Nuva and Zephyr might enjoy some of this"

Chrysta did a quick perusal of the tray and after selecting several smaller items that could be munched on as needed, she bundled the rest up in a couple of napkins. The larger one was handed to the gunman with instructions on splitting it between the two destria, the smaller one was for the strays.

Vincent accepted the bundles giving her a dark look.

"Why am I the one who gets to disperse this?"

"One, it was your idea. Two, unlike you, I am at least going to eat a little." Chrysta poked him in the chest with a forefinger. "And three, this old lady is NOT climbing out a second story window.

"Old lady my ass!"

He couldn't help but mutter as he dropped to the courtyard and snuck past the guards. All the gunman needed was for Grant to catch him in the act and he would be drinking only tea for the rest of the week, or worse yet, just water.

It took Valentine the better part of an hour to get the goodies divided between the two delighted destria and a hoard of stray cats. Then he had to figure out how to get back in without alerting the sentries.

Chrysta was sitting at the table when he made it back into the room. She had finished some of the munchies and was half heartedly sipping a glass of the chilled tea. The woman had taken the opportunity to change into a loose shirt and soft flannel pants while he had been occupied. Vincent sat down opposite her and accepted the glass that she had already filled for him. She watched him silently as he made himself comfortable.

"Sooo…" she set her glass down. "Where would you like to begin?"

Vincent though about it for a moment as he sampled his drink,

"How much did Dr. Derai tell you about me?"

"Actually Forrest never TOLD me anything about his work at Shinra." Chrysta shook her head slightly at the ex-Turk's skeptical look. "One of the "conditions" of his being able to "retire" was that he was to tell NO ONE what he did at Shinra, and he kept his word to the best of his ability. What I know about you are bits and pieces that I put together listening in on his dreams. He had terrible nightmares and he talked a lot in his sleep. There were many sleepless nights that I laid by him and listened to the horrible experiments he had witnessed and participated in. Yours isn't the only life that Hojo had a negative impact on."

Vincent snorted,

"You will have to pardon me if I can't dredge up any sympathy for him, at least Hojo didn't turn him into an inhuman monster."

"Oh, I wouldn't be so quick to say that. Have you ever wondered what taking a normal, caring person and making them commit acts that are abhorrent to them over and over again, does to that person's psyche? Believe me, by the time Forrest finally got away from Hojo and Shinra, he considered himself a monster in every sense of the term."

Chrysta looked hard at the gunman for a moment.

"You don't look like a monster to me, Vincent Valentine, why on earth would you believe you are one?"

The gunman hesitated, the only people who knew the details of his past were his friends in Avalanche, and even then he had not sat down with ANY of them and discussed it in depth. The painful memories and his shame in what he had been and what he had become, ran too deep. All of a sudden he realized that this once he wanted, no NEEDED, to unburden his soul to a sympathetic ear. But that need was tempered by the fear that the friendship he had found here with this unusual woman would end because of what he revealed.

"GO AHEAD, VINCENT," Chaos's deep voice surprised him. "I THINK YOU WILL FIND THAT CHRYSTA IS REMARKABLY OPEN MINDED. YOU… NEED… TO DO THIS."

"Before, Hojo got his hands on me, I was a monster. I was employed by Shinra as a "Turk". Do you know what that entails?"

The man glanced up almost afraid to meet his roommate's eyes. She held his gaze while nodding slowly.

"I was assigned as a bodyguard for Dr. Lucrecia Crescent…."

Always before Vincent had found telling any part of his past was incredibly difficult. This time the tale bubbled up and out as if it had a life of its own. The pain, both physical and emotional crashed to the surface seemingly wanting to tear its way out through his voice and the telling. It was as if by talking, he was lancing a long standing infection, and the pain was being drawn out and drained away.

Vincent told her everything, his shame at allowing Lucrecia and her unborn child to become part of Hojo's experiments, his pain and fear the day he was brutally killed. He described the terror of waking up as Hojo's captive and realizing he was no longer entirely human. The ex-Turk reluctantly revealed how Lucrecia in an effort to save him had introduced the Chaos gene into his body. He even went into some detail on how Hojo had altered his being with surgery, Mako treatments and the introduction of no less than three other demons who merged, along with Chaos into his mind. The man did not dwell on the terrible pain these experiments caused him, but one look at her white face and he knew that she understood.

He then told her about the thirty years of being locked in his coffin as a type of penance and the toll it had taken on his humanity. Finally, he explained how he was almost certain that Sephiroth had been HIS son, not Hojo's and how he had to carry the guilt of, not only all of the terrible things the insane General had done, but the fact that he, the father, had been instrumental in bringing about the death of his and Lucrecia's son.

By the time he had finished telling her what Chaos's part in bringing Omega to life was in the incident with Deepground, he was sure that the woman across from him now understood why he considered himself a monster.

"Gods, Valentine," Chrysta's face was drawn and her hands as she set her tea glass down were shaking. "It really sucks to be you!"

The woman tried to smile at him but instead suddenly pushed back her chair and staggered into the bathroom. Vincent's acute hearing picked up the sound of her vomiting.

"WELL, THAT'S… UNEXPECTED."

The demon sounded concerned.

Vincent felt terrible; he knocked on the door,

"Are you all right in there?"

"It's okay Vincent," Chrysta's voice was still a little shaky. "This isn't your fault. Why don't you go down and tell Grant we are in desperate need of some Anesthetic up here."

As he descended the stairs, the ex-Turk wondered if maybe he shouldn't just gather up his things and leave before he caused these good people any more distress.

"DON'T YOU DARE." Chaos was adamant, "YOU TRY RUNNING AND I WILL CRAMP UP BOTH OF YOUR LEGS!"

When he made it back to the room, Chrysta had moved the chairs over by the open window and the cool night breeze had returned some of the color to her cheeks. The gunman poured a couple of small glasses of the potent blue alcohol then set the bottle on the window sill. She quietly contemplated the General as the ex-Turk sat back down.

"I can understand ….."She started to speak but he cut her off before she finished the sentence.

"NO, you can't understand, no one that I know can even come close to understanding how this has affected me and how I feel."

The words came out harsher than he had intended, and Chrysta turned from her perusal of the courtyard. The eyes that met his held compassion, and a little bit of anger.

"No, YOU don't understand," she smiled and there was something sad and terrible lurking there. "I am more aware then you know of how terrible you feel."

Chrysta sighed and then took a drink out of her glass.

"During the day, you are just about the most heavily shielded person I have run across in a long time. But, when you were dreaming last night, and as you were telling your life's tale…. your shielding dropped. I HAD to wake you this morning, even knowing that I shouldn't, because you were broadcasting what you were FEELING in your nightmare, it was so terrible I couldn't block it out."

She must have noticed the confused look on his face because she snorted a quick humorless laugh.

"My mother and father were both destria trainers, guess you can say the career runs in my blood in more ways than one. You may have noticed there are very few women who work with destria, this is because if a woman absorbs too much destria venom it causes lethal mutations in any children she might conceive later on. My mother was aware of this, so when she became pregnant with me she fully expected that I would not survive full term. Imagine her surprise when not only did I survive but was born a healthy, seemingly normal child. The mutations that occurred before I was born were such that they didn't really show up until I hit puberty, and about that same time, I took my first hit of destria venom. While I was suffering from the poisoning I kept hearing voices in my head. At first I thought it was just from the fever. Then I realized that the couple of destria I was working with at the time were talking to me."

The woman shot a quick look his way and seeing the look of disbelief on his face she sighed and said,

"I would think you of all people wouldn't need proof."

Chrysta looked him in the eye and whispered,

"Nuva, come out into your paddock and say hello to Mr. skeptical here." Her eye color shifted until it was almost blue.

Vincent watched in amazement as the mare came trotting out, faced the window and gave a whistling call.

His companion smiled a grim smile at the expression on the gunman's face.

"If you need more proof," her eyes hardened, and chilled to an ice green. Again she whispered, "General, you are a mother fucking asshole."

The massive silver threw up his head and screamed a hateful challenge back.

"WOW, I THINK YOU CAN BELIEVE HER VINCENT."

As Chaos finished, Chrysta's head turned from watching the General. Vincent had a sudden epiphany.

"You can hear Chaos, can't you?" Vincent wasn't surprised when she nodded, but he was more than just a little creeped out. "Can you read my mind also?"

"I think Chaos must broadcast on almost the same wave length as the destria because they can "hear" him also. I can occasionally pick up thoughts from other people's minds; I have learned to maintain strong shields so as not to be overwhelmed. I do pick up strong emotion very easily. You, on the other hand, can relax, as I said before; you have some very tight shielding, probably from having to deal with your "guests". I can pick up very little from you. What does get out is mostly emotion. And it only leaks out when it is very strong. So Vincent Valentine, having "felt" one of your nightmares and been gut punched by some of the residual emotions from your relating of your life I can honestly say that I do understand some of what you FEEL. I definitely understand what it means to have someone else in your head ALL of the time. Once one of… them…" she nodded in the direction of the barn, "bonds with me, I can't block them out. It can be extremely… inconvenient… at times."

Vincent couldn't help but chuckle at the wry tone this last bit was delivered in. He knew that inconvenient was the understatement of the century. Maybe she DID understand more about him than he had realized.

"UHMMM, VINCENT, DO YOU THINK SHE HEARD THE MONKEY COMMENT EARLIER?"

Chaos seemed to be trying to whisper, not an easy thing for the demon to do.

Vincent watched as Chrysta tossed back the last of her Anesthetic and poured each of them a little more. She was biting her lower lip and she kept her eyes glued to her task. The woman gave an almost imperceptible nod of her head.

"OH CRAP!"

Vincent got the distinct impression that the demon was looking for a rock to crawl under. He just couldn't help himself.

"I thought you said it was okay for demons to have depraved thoughts?" He made the comment in complete innocence.

"SHUT UP VALENTINE!"


	14. Chapter 14

Square Enix holds all rights to the ffVII world and its characters. This is a fanfiction and I make no profit from it. I DO own the rights to my original characters and the original parts of this story line.

To Race the Wild Wind CH. 13

For a while, they just sat, sipping their drinks and watching the storm as it moved in over the valley. It was close enough now that the rumble of thunder was disturbing the quiet of the night and the breeze carried in the sweet scent of rain.

Vincent was a little startled when Chaos spoke up.

"SO CHRYSTA, I AM DYING TO KNOW JUST HOW YOU PULLED OFF THAT BRILLIANT DEFENSIVE MOVE THIS MORNING. I MUST SAY, IT WAS MOST EFFECTIVE, AND I, FOR ONE, FOUND IT VASTLY ENTERTAINING."

Vincent couldn't help himself.

"Chaos, you are such a suck up."

With Chrysta ONLY hearing Chaos's side of the conversation this deal just might work to his advantage. Very rarely did the ex-Turk win any verbal exchanges with the demon lord.

"HMMM," The demon kept his response remarkably polite even though it was delivered in close to a snarl.. "I WOULD STILL LIKE TO HEAR THE ANSWER."

"Well, that question is a little more complicated."

Chrysta was, oddly, watching the flashes of lightning through the electric blue of her Anesthetic.

"Part of it was the fact that I felt Vincent's emotions shift from terror to retribution just before he struck and it gave me a slight advantage in speed. Part of it ties into the mutations that destria venom caused before I was born. Honing those "mutations" day after day working with knuckle heads like him," One hand gestured in the General's direction. The big silver responded by curling his lips back and popping his fangs, "has made me quite a bit stronger and my reflexes are much faster than the average persons. And last, because of the circumstances surrounding Forest's "retirement," SOMEONE," insisted that he be allowed to train both Forest and myself in combat and defense technique's. You could say that I learned how to defend myself from Shinra's very best."

Chrysta sighed and set her glass down so she could turn and study the gunman's face.

"When you disappeared, Forest became very distraught. He thought you had died, and HE was partly to blame. With the knowledge he had of Hojo and his "specimen's" he could not just quit, I am sure as a Turk you know how that works."

Vincent gave a reluctant nod. Several of the assignments he had been part of had been dealing with people who could become potential liabilities to the Shinra Corporation. The Turk's/he quite literally removed that threat.

"Hmmm. Yes Vincent Valentine. I believe I do agree with your assessment that before Hojo you were well on your way to becoming a monster."

The ex-Turk found he couldn't meet her eyes. He was surprised when she reached out and cupped his chin in her cool, strong hand making him look into her face. Her eyes held nothing but compassion and her husky voice was soft.

"I ALSO firmly believe that even though Hojo made some major changes to your physiology, and added a couple of personalities to your psyche, he just might have saved your humanity in the process."

"AN INTELLIGENT, INSIGHTFUL WOMAN, LISTEN WELL VALENTINE. YOU MIGHT LEARN SOMETHING."

Chaos was unusually serious.

Vincent jerked his chin up.

"Really, how can you consider me still human, knowing I am a host to several demons?"

Chrysta shook her head slightly,

"The key word here is "HOST." Being a Host for Chaos or any of your other "demons" does NOT automatically make you one of them. No more than having several different destria personalities popping in and out of my head all of the time makes ME a destria. As a matter of fact, I am willing to bet gil that Chaos does NOT consider himself a demon. He probably feels as screwed by being stuck in you as you feel being saddled with him."

Chaos had gotten very quiet and very, very still.

"I do agree with you on one fact, which is, that you DO pose a real danger to anyone close to you with the nightmares you suffer from. Remind me later, I can give you something that will help mitigate that danger." She settled back and smiled at him, "now where was I?"

Vincent cleared his throat,

"You were telling us about how Forest reacted to my…disappearance."

"Ah, that's right."

Chrysta turned back to watch the nearing storm as she continued.

"Stuck between the proverbial rock and a hard place, Forest came very close to killing himself, all that stopped him was the fact that it would have left a small child alone in a harsh and friendless world."

She glanced sideways at the still form of the gunslinger.

"SEPHIROTH."

"Sephiroth," Vincent and Chaos spoke as one. "Forest would have done the world a huge favor if he had smothered that child while he was still a babe."

The ex-Turk sounded tired and bitter.

Chrysta's head snapped around and her eyes were hot.

"Vincent Valentine, who are you to judge?" the words carried a nasty sting.

The gunman flinched away from her harsh words.

"You do not understand, what he became… the terrible damage that he did… these are sins I will carry forever. I failed him, and because of this…" Vincent found that he could hardly speak the truth he had known in his heart from the moment he had stepped out of his coffin and his next words came out as a barely audible whisper. " All that happened came to be because of me….Sephiroth and the world would have been better off had he been destroyed while still a babe."

Chrysta just blinked as she absorbed what he was saying…Then her expressive face hardened. Her next words carried an edge like sharpened steel and like a blade, they cut true and deep.

"Do you really believe that if you HAD been able to stop Lucrecia that Hojo wouldn't have found some other woman to use? He had the FULL backing of the powers that be at Shinra. They probably would have nabbed some poor young girl from the slums who would have had NO choice in the matter. And heaven forbid, who is to say that what he created wouldn't have been worse than what Sephiroth became."

Vincent tried to defend his long held guilt.

"Lucrecia and I could have told someone, done something.…"

This earned him an irate snort from the angry woman.

"You… of all people should know better than that. This was BEFORE you were altered, and where as, I am sure you were very good at your job, you two would have still ended up very, very D...E...A...D.…dead. Then where would the world have been when Shinra's perfect created soldier went cruising full speed off the deep end? And better yet, with you dead, there would have been no Vincent around to control Chaos when Hojo managed to raise Omega. Imagine how that would have ended."

All the gunman could do was stare at her in total shock. All of the years he had spent overwhelmed by feelings of terrible guilt and responsibility, the soul crushing years of isolation paid as retribution, all for a debt that just maybe wasn't his to pay. His frozen body started to tremble as his mind's carefully crafted world on how things really "WERE" was rocked.

"CHRYSTA…"

This was a warning, Chaos could feel the gunman's mind buckling as Vincent tried to process this new view of his life's events into the rigid, albeit fragile frame he had created to preserve his sanity over the years.

"CRAP!"

All of the anger was swept out of the woman's eyes as she caught the full brunt of the twisted brew of emotions rolling through the room and got a good glimpse of the stricken look on her companions face.

"What the HELL! He can't possibly be this fragile!"

This was directed in panic at Chaos as the woman knelt down in front of the gunman and taking his hands in her own, tried to siphon off and dissipate the worst of his emotional distress.

"MORE SO THAN YOU WILL EVER KNOW!"

The demon's voice was grim as he bolstered Vincent's mental barriers with his own formidable strength. If this continued, he would have to force the ex-Turk under and who knew what condition he would awaken in. IF… he awoke at all! Under normal circumstances the demon wouldn't have hesitated to take advantage of Vincent's lapse, but the thought of being trapped in a host who might become cationic for eternity terrified the demon.

For several desperate moments they worked in sync trying to hold the gunman together until he could regain his mental footing, but it seemed they could make no progress. It was as if that one little shift in thinking had caused a series of cascading waterfalls that wouldn't be stopped until they ran their course.

Then, another presence joined them and all three minds were flooded with the sweet rumbling croon of a destria. After a moment a second deeper one also entered through Chrysta's empathic link, and then as if from a distance, a third surprising tenor mental voice bracketed the whole. The deeply soothing, harmonic vibrations had a hypnotic calming effect and Chaos knew they were making progress when the gunman managed to unlocked his body enough to take a deep shuddering breath.

Chrysta held the link until she felt sure that Vincent {and Chaos} had things back in some semblance of order, and then she carefully blocked the three destria out and withdrew. Vincent's crimson eyes flew open at her slight hiss of pain when her leg protested its awkward position. He had regained enough of his equilibrium that he was able to steady her as she scooted back into her chair. A brilliant flash of lightening and almost simultaneous crack of thunder made both of them jump. Out in his paddock the General screamed a shrill challenge to the wind. The storm had arrived. The wind whipped rain in through the open window and Vincent had the presence of mind to slam it shut before they were both soaked.

The gunman stood and watched the water streaming down onto the courtyard and then turned solemnly to the still seated Chrysta.

"I can honestly say, that I had not looked at it in quite that way before," Vincent managed a slightly shaky, small smile. "Thank you. It makes my life seem not quite as …bleak…as before. And thank you Chaos, I am not sure how that would have turned out without you stuffing your proverbial fingers into the holes to stop the leaks."

"DON'T THINK TOO MUCH OF IT VALENTINE, AT LEAST WITH THE WAY YOU ARE NOW, I OCCAISONALLY HAVE SOMEONE TO TALK TO. MY MOTIVES IN HELPING YOU OUT WERE PURELY SELF PRESERVING."

The demon tried hard to sound unconcerned.

"Chrysta," Vincent was curious. "I recognized Nuva's "voice," who were the other two that joined her and why did they help out?"

The woman carefully split the rest of the Anesthetic into their two glasses before she answered.

"Nuva, as you know, took a real liking to you and she could feel your distress through me. The deeper pitched "voice" was Zephyr; he will usually follow where Nuva leads. The other lighter one was, oddly enough, Inferno. If he had a reason for helping out, he is currently keeping it to himself. He can be a lot like his sire."

Chrysta took a small sip of her drink and her troubled green eyes studied the ex-Turk's face.

"I am truly sorry that I shook things up that much for you. Would you rather I not finish what we started here?"

Vincent followed her example and took a drink.

"I know very little about what Sephiroth was like before he went mad. I would very much like you to continue." He caught the odd, calculating look she gave him. "Really, I am fine."

"Hmmmm," Chrysta seemed to relax a little, "okay then, as I was saying before, Forest just couldn't bear the thought of a child being left alone under Hojo's "tender" care. So he did for the boy the same kind of things that he had done for you, trying to bring a little humanity into Sephiroth's existence. Over the years, they developed a relationship that Hojo allowed as it seemed to do no harm to his scientific studies.

One of the things that Forest had a passion for was destria racing. He made it a point to try and be here for the running of the Gauntlet as much as possible. When Sephiroth became an adult he would sometimes accompany him. During one of these visits, they observed a trainer dealing very harshly with a young stallion. This trainer…"

Here, Chrysta's mouth twisted, as if giving that person that particular title tasted bad,

"…pushed the animal a little too far and the destria decided to push back. Hard! In the space of a breath the stallion turned on the man and took him down. He savaged the trainer so badly that by the time we drove him off of his victim, there was not a whole lot left that was recognizable. The animal's owner wanted him destroyed; I interfered, as anyone with half a brain could see that the stallion had been driven to the violence. Things were getting a little heated when Sephiroth stepped forward and well, just…. appropriated the stallion. Wow…. could that man make an impression."

Vincent nodded slightly; impressive was a good word for describing Sephiroth. Of course other good words would be, insane…terrifying…deadly

"BEAUTIFUL. CHARASMATIC..." Chaos interjected.

"Oh yes, that to."

Chrysta agreed, she was idly tracing designs in the condensation on her glass with one long finger.

"Well the end of it was that the two of them hired me to train Vera's Silver Flame, which was the stallion's name. And, I was also hired to teach Sephiroth how to ride. Of course with HIM there was very little teaching involved. He took to riding the General like a natural; yes we called the stallion that because they were so perfectly suited to each other. Forest and Sephiroth's two friends, Genesis and Angeal, thought that was hilarious. Sephiroth didn't think it was funny, but he tolerated it."

Chrysta smiled a slow sad smile.

"Forest and I ended up married, and when Hojo started showing an inordinate amount of interest in some of my "abilities" Sephiroth and his two friends arranged it so that Forest could retire."

Vincent interrupted her here. He knew how tenacious the crazy scientist could be.

"How did they pull that off?"

The woman snickered darkly.

"Let's just say it involved the threat of physically dismembering a certain, president, scientist and several high ranking Turk's if any harm came to either of us. Shinra DID send a watchdog to keep an eye on our behavior though, bet you can't guess who?"

The gunman thought hard about it for a moment, and then a quick memory of a shotgun just seeming to appear in a certain person's capable large hands came to mind.

"Grant was a Turk?"


	15. Chapter 15

Square Enix holds all rights to the ffVII world and its characters. This is a fanfiction and I make no profit from it. I DO own the rights to my original characters and the original parts of this story line.

To Race the Wild Wind Ch. 15

"Oh you are good!" Chrysta's face hardened for a moment.

"When the man first came here, he was a nasty piece of work. I would have told you then, that I would marry the General out there before I would have anything to do with Grant."

She noticed the incredulous look on the gunman's face and gave a bemused little shrug.

"To turn the word's I threw at you a little while ago, on myself, who was I to judge? I have never really figured out if Shinra sent Grant to keep an eye on us or if Sephiroth somehow brought him here to make sure there was no Shinra funny business against Forest. I can tell you this though, between my enhanced abilities, what Sephiroth taught me in blade work and what Grant drilled into me in hand to hand, I CAN defend myself in most circumstances."

Her expression had softened and she studied Vincent with a critical eye.

"Although I have no problem admitting that this morning showed me enough that I would rather not come up against you or Chaos in a fair fight."

Chaos's rumbling laughter interrupted her.

"I AM WILLING TO BET MY WINGS, THAT YOU IN NO WAY…FIGHT FAIR!"

Chrysta straightened up in her chair.

"I was taught by my instructor that you do what it takes to win and worry about the fair part later."

Vincent gave a slight nod.

"I was having a hard time picturing Grant as a killer, but that DOES sound like something a Turk would say."

As a matter of fact the ex-Turk was pretty sure he had heard the same thing a long time ago when he was in training.

The woman across from him leaned forward and the look in her eyes didn't bode well for someone. Waving him close she whispered conspiratorially,

"If you ever want to have some fun and witness something truly impressive, just start a bar fight downstairs sometime, the man is AWESOME in close quarters." She leaned back in her seat and he barely heard the muttered, "just don't let him find out it was you that started it."

Vincent just stared at her with one eyebrow arched.

"What!" She sounded defensive. Then her face broke out in that beautifully wicked smile. "Yeah, I have done it a few times. He is just so damn much fun to watch, if I give the locals notice they will even pay to come. BUT… you didn't hear that from me."

Laughing quietly, she levered herself to her feet and opened the window back up. The worst part of the storm had passed and the rain had slowed to a drizzle.

Dark green eyes glanced down at him.

"Are you planning on trying to sleep tonight?

She just looked at him for a moment when he answered with a slight shake of his head.

"Hmmm, well when you do need some rest, let me know, I was serious when I said I think I can provide something that will help. Myself, on the other hand needs to get some sleep so we will have to continue this some other time." The woman sat on the edge of the duvet and wrapped up in her quilt.

Vincent watched the rain fall for a moment then silently got up and turned off the light. When he returned to his chair she had lain down and was watching him drowsily.

"Valentine, do you have anyone special in your life?" She sounded as sleepy as she looked.

The gunman knew what she was asking and chose to tiptoe around the answer.

"Yes, I have people whom I consider friends."

The snort that he expected came, as if on cue.

"That's not what I meant and you know it! Is there someone special in your life? Surely there's a person that regards YOU as special."

"Hnnn,"

Vincent did NOT want to be having this particular conversation. "No, there is no significant "other" in my life at this time. Although… there is one, I think, who would like to be."

"Really, and what about you? You aren't interested in her?"

Chrysta seemed to perk up a bit.

Vincent frowned as he turned from contemplating the night sky.

"I am too old to be romantically interested in Yuffie, she is only nineteen and I am not a pedophile."

The gunman was amazed when Chrysta flipped her quilt up over her face and rolled over on her side. For a moment he was confused, then slightly insulted when what sounded suspiciously like muffled laughter reached his ears.

He reached over and poked her lightly in the back.

"That was not intended to be funny."

The sound of laughter stopped but he could tell by the way her shoulders were shaking that she must have stuffed something in her mouth to muffle it completely.

With a long suffering sigh he asked,

"Should I leave until you get this out of your system or do you want me to stay and watch you suffocate on your own laughter?"

She must have realized he was slightly insulted through the tone of his voice because she rolled over and uncovered her face.

"I am so sorry Valentine, I am not laughing at what you said, I am laughing at the fact that what you said mirrored my thoughts exactly."

At his look of total confusion she broke out in the giggles again.

"I was watching you when you rose to turn out the lights and the thought popped into my head on how incredibly sexy and attractive you are. (And don't give me that look, just because I am a little older, doesn't mean I am dead!} Then right on its heels was, OH MY GODS CHRYSTA, he is at least twenty years your junior, YOU are a pedophile!"

Vincent felt the corners of his mouth turn up, damn if her giggles weren't infectious.

"Technically, you could not qualify as a pedophile as my actual age is over sixty." The gunman was interrupted by Chaos.

"I AM MUCH OLDER THAN YOU BOTH AND AS I AM SUPPOSED TO HAVE UNATURAL APPETITES, IN THIS CASE I WOULD HAVE NO PROBLEM BEING A PEDOPHILE!"

Vincent's smile slipped and he couldn't help but wince at how unnerving it would be to have Chaos involved with/in him as part of a sexual tryst.

Chrysta caught the expression and burst out in a new round of laughter. At his wounded look she relented.

"You should count yourself lucky, you have YOUR voyeuristic demons down to one and HE at least matches your sexual persuasion. I have three, and two of them are MALE. It's bad when Nuva interrupts by asking; he wants you to put what…. WHERE? Better yet, you should try staying focused when the boys are popping up with things like; tell him he should try it destria style. Or, he needs to practice his nibbling. Or and this is my personal favorite; WOW…. is that all the bigger IT gets?"

It wasn't her words that got to him, it was the ridiculous expressions on her face as she imbued each comment with that particular destria's individual personality. All of a sudden, he found himself laughing as hard as she was. Both of them laughed until all that was left was an occasional giggle or intermittent chuckle. The gunman had forgotten how good a hearty laugh made you feel and it had been a very long time since he had indulged in one.

Chrysta used a corner of her quilt to wipe her eyes.

"Ahhh Vincent, I can't tell you how much it means to find someone who knows exactly what I have been living with. I truly thought that I was the only person in the world with THIS particular problem."

She settled back against her pillows and her eyelids drooped.

Vincent watched her silently for a long moment, "Do you?" He asked.

"Do I what?" she looked at him sleepily.

"Do you have someone special in your life?"

Chrysta's expressive face stilled and the gunman thought she wasn't going to answer him. Then, she closed her eyes.

"No Valentine, I have let no one into my life since my marriage ended. I have been alone every second of every day, starting from the moment that Forest died." A small, sad smile curved her lips as she continued

"Maybe this is how it is supposed to be, being as I am the one who killed him."

Shaken by her answer and the incredible sadness in her voice, the ex-Turk didn't say anymore. He just sat and quietly watched, until her face smoothed out and her breathing had deepened into a pattern that said she was asleep.


	16. Chapter 16

This is a fanfiction. I make no money from it. (But if you like my writing and want to read some of my original work I DO have a short story published through Kindle! just ask) Square Enix holds all rights to the FFVII world and its characters. I own the rights to my original characters and the original parts of this story line!

To Race the Wild Wind CH.16

Vincent sat with his feet propped on the window sill until the first blush of the false dawn topped the horizon. He had spent the hours carefully turning over all of the facts and implications that the night's conversation had brought up, studying them from every possible angle. Chaos thankfully had remained silent, leaving him alone with his restless thoughts. Although the gunman was pretty sure it wasn't for his benefit, rather the demon just didn't want to disturb their sleeping roommate. Somehow, the seasoned woman had sparked more than the base, carnal interest that the demon usually showed in young, nubile human females. He glanced over at the duvet. Chrysta had rolled over and had one leg kicked out from under the quilt. The soft material of her nightwear had ridden up, exposing a shapely ankle and slim, well muscled calf. Vincent found his thoughts dwelling on how...arousing… those powerful legs and firm butt had felt straddling his hips when she had him pinned that morning. For that matter, the gunman decided, the demon wasn't the only one who just might be interested.

The sound of someone coming up the stairs brought his attention back to the present. He could tell by the heavy, firm tread that it was Grant. A soft knock on the door and the smell of fresh coffee had Chrysta blurrily awake by the time Vincent opened it.

The big man gave him an apologetic look. "Sorry to disturb you at this ungodly hour, but Chrysta wanted to give the General a good run this morning before the crowds are up and about." The grim look he sent in the general direction of the duvet showed just how much he thought of this plan. The barman deftly set his tray down on the table and put the bundle of clean clothes and leathers he was carrying under the other arm next to it.

Chrysta limped over and helped herself to a cup of the steaming black coffee. She threw the older man a hard look as she scooped up the bundle of clothes in her other hand, and went to shut herself in the bathroom. "This day is going to be bad enough without you giving me a hard time, Grant."

The man winced at the sharp edge in her voice. For a moment the room was silent, then Vincent heard a soft sigh from the other side of the door and Chrysta opened it back up.

"Grant I am sorry. What do you expect me to do? I can't just leave him in a small paddock all of his life; it would make him crazier than he already is." The softness of the words went a long ways towards soothing the sting the other harsh ones had left.

Vincent could see the concern written all over the bartenders face as he relented. "At least take someone with you."

She thought about it for a minute. "I've got no other mount who can match the pace I am able to hold him to. Nuva or Zephyr would kill themselves trying to keep up." She smiled at the big man. "Stop worrying, I have been doing this for years now and I have managed to stay ahead of him. Now, go on downstairs, you can bet I will be hungry when I get back." She made shooing motions at him and closed the door.

Grant cocked his head at Vincent, a silent invitation for the gunman to follow him down to the common room. Once there, it was the gunman's turn to wince when the usually quiet man slammed a fist down on the bar. His voice was a low growl, pitched so no one else could hear it. "Damn it! I HATE that S.O.B! It's not Chrysta staying AHEAD of him that I am worried about." He faced Vincent and his mild brown eyes were dark with distress. "She should NEVER take him out by herself. She was very lucky bringing him in alone the other night." Grant met Vincent's crimson eyes squarely. "I have no right to ask this of you, but please don't let her take him out alone. I have never seen Chrysta get thrown, but if any destria can do it, it's that one. She's told me herself that even the best riders get drilled into the dirt occasionally. If that bastard unloads her while they are out by themselves, she is as good as dead."

Chaos who had been very quiet during this astonishing speech gave the gunman an ungentle mental nudge. "VALENTINE, I AM FULLY CAPABLE OF MATCHING THE GENERAL'S SPEED."

Vincent was amazed when he found himself seriously considering the demon's offer

as he watched Chrysta come down the stairs. She was making minute adjustments to the padded leather vest that was designed to protect her chest and vulnerable stomach. The woman quietly set her empty cup on the bar and Grant just as quietly filled it for her. With a soft sigh she took her cup and headed out into the courtyard. As the gunman followed her he could hear Grant banging angrily around in the kitchen. From the stiff set of Chrysta's shoulders, she could hear him too. Vincent was not surprised when Grant slipped out the door and joined him in watching as she disappeared into the barn.

He was surprised when she re-appeared and turned Nuva loose into the General's paddock. Nuva immediately started pushing the big silver towards the heavy fence and to Vincent's amazement the big stallion allowed it. He turned to Grant with a questioning look.

Grant smiled tightly, "Nuva has been Chrysta's lead herd mare since the General came here, no matter how old he gets, he will always defer to her."

Chrysta stood on the outside of the paddock; she had thrown her saddle up on the top rail. She waited patiently as the two animals circled the enclosure twice, Nuva on the inside slowly pushing the stallion until he was moving right against the fence. As they reached the post where the woman waited, the mare leaned in hard using her body to pin the male firmly against the fence. He reacted by tossing his head high and trying to back up, but before he could Chrysta reached in and clipped a stout rope to the collar right behind his heavy ridge. He made an unhappy, rumbling cough and popped his fangs but between having his head snugged to the post and with the mare's considerable weight leaning into his shoulder, the General had been effectively immobilized.

Chrysta quickly opened the gate and as she approached, Nuva shifted her body so her chest was against the General's shoulder and her neck and ridged head bridged over the male's heavy neck. He would have to go through her to use his mouth or horns on his trainer. Vincent was aware that again as Chrysta worked around the dangerous animal her limp had totally disappeared.

From there it only took the competent woman a few minutes to get the General brushed and saddled. He tried once to kick her while she checked and filed his sharp hooves but an angry rumble and Nuva's sharp fangs on his crest were enough of a warning that he allowed it to be done.

Vincent wondered how she was going to get the bridle on to that massive, dangerous, horned and fanged head. He was concerned when Nuva stepped back and Chrysta unloosed the rope from the post. The General started to swing around and suddenly froze, every limb trembling as if it was locked unwillingly in place.

He heard Grant mutter behind him, "Gotcha, you big ugly bastard!" At Vincent's raised eyebrows the big man smiled grimly. "She is using her link with him to lock him down. It takes a lot of concentration and she can only do it for a few seconds at a time."

Those few seconds were all that she needed to get the bridle on him and get centered in the saddle. It was easy to tell the second she released her hold, as the stallion screamed an angry challenge and reared, twisting and clawing at the sky. She brought him back down with difficulty and as they approached the gate, the gunman stepped forward; he couldn't believe he was going to do this.

"Chaos is feeling very restless and wants to know if you think the General will tolerate him coming along with you?" He didn't know who was more astonished, Chaos, Chrysta, or himself.

She slashed a quick suspicious look at Grant who raised his hands in defense. "Hey don't look at me… Who is Chaos?"

"I don't see as how it would be a problem. Chaos… it will be up to you to keep up. I won't have the attention to spare to keep track of where you are at." Her husky voice was a little breathless at the physical effort needed to control the big silver. The General had all four feet jigging in place, his head bowed tightly against the bit, his bearded muzzle almost touching his chest. The veins and tendons stood out on the backs of Chrysta's hands, an indication of how much strength it was taking to keep stallion from ripping the four reins out of them.

"UNDERSTOOD," Chaos could not conceal his anticipation as he pushed forward towards release.

Vincent barely had time to warn the demon, "You had better NOT leave me in the barn again!" He was not encouraged by the evil snicker he heard before going totally under.

With a quick nod, Chrysta relaxed the reins. The General shot through the gate and then disappeared out of the courtyard. Grant had backed up against the door as Vincent's body dissolved in scarlet mist to be replaced by the dark, winged form of Chaos. One quick, dismissive, golden eyed glance at the man and the demon took to the air. The innkeeper couldn't help but smile when he heard a couple of startled screams from the street as the few early risers that were out got the double shock of the General thundering by, followed closely by the embodiment of a black winged, airborne nightmare.

Chrysta kept the stallion in a firmly controlled hand gallop as they made their way through town. From his vantage point above the demon could tell that the General was not keeping to the slower pace willingly. He had his mouth gaped open trying to duck away from the bit, but every time he tried to slip one way or the other, the woman used the pressure of her strong legs to prevent it. Frustrated, the big animal snaked his head back trying to take a bite out of one of those legs. Chaos noticed for the first time that the saddle had rolled leather guards that protected the thighs and gave the rider some extra leverage when it came to sudden direction changes. Chrysta thumped the silver's sensitive nose and he hastily put it back out in front where she couldn't reach it.

As they cleared the edge of town, Chrysta turned her mount down a beaten track and the General's stride opened up. The demon suddenly understood her warning about having to keep up. He was usually a high altitude flyer, his size and the span of his wings made low level runs tiring, difficult, and dangerous. With a snarl, he pumped his wings harder, catching up to the pair with just enough speed to glide ahead for a moment. As he passed, the stallion tossed his head, silver mane rippling like flame. The feral ice green eyes connected briefly with the demon lord's golden ones and a challenge was issued. Before responding to it, Chaos spared a glance at the beast's rider. She gave him a grim smile, flattened out across the stallion's shoulders and loosened the reins another notch. The General surged ahead. The demon made the decision to keep the contest purely physical. He knew that he could draw on his otherworldly abilities and win this easily but there would be no challenge in that.

Chrysta for her part proved to be an incredibly sneaky individual. She knew this ground and used it to the General's every advantage. The path they were on twisted and turned, making the winged contestant slow and bank to make the turns. The big silver on the other hand utilized flying lead changes to negotiate the turns and switchbacks; they hardly slowed him at all. She also tucked the animal in between and around rock outcroppings that the demon had to work to avoid. As they topped the rim Chaos was behind, but he gained on the down side as Chrysta had to rein in hard shifting the stallion's center of balance backwards. The General practically slid down the hill on his ass. As the ground leveled out the stallion stepped it up another notch, covering ground with huge, oily strides. With open air in front of him Chaos closed the gap, if the speeding pair made the trees ahead of him he would have to soar up and he would loose ground. The thought did cross his mind that if the destria were to stumble or loose his footing at this speed there was a good possibility that neither of the pair would get up from the resulting fall.

As Chaos pulled even with them, he could see that Chrysta was working hard to slow their headlong pace, she had no intentions of letting the General take her into the trees. The stallion was shaking his head and ducking from side to side trying to unbalance his rider but Chrysta stayed centered on him letting her legs, knees and hips absorb the impact of the sudden changes in direction. She managed to turn the beast to run parallel to the trees. Chaos soared and banked to make the turn with them. From his higher vantage point he saw what the distracted stallion did not, a massive dead tree had fallen across the path. The demon did not have the time to warn the rider but Chrysta saw it at almost the last minute. She buried her heels in the General's sensitive sides, this got his attention and she somehow gathered him up before they hit. The General launched himself skyward, front legs tucked, hind legs stretch high and behind. For the first time in his long existence Chaos saw an un-enhanced, earthbound, wingless creature truly fly. The silver soared over the huge log as if he was riding on the wind. He landed lightly on the other side slipping a little in the soft debris. Using the fact that he was out of balance, Chrysta circled the stallion slowing him even more until she had him back in a controlled hand gallop. She flashed a tired smile at the hovering demon and headed back the way they had come.

Chaos could not believe the amount of ground they had covered. By the time Chrysta had wrestled the stallion back to just outside the town, two hours had passed and the sun was well above the horizon. She brought him to a halt with difficulty and motioned for Chaos to land. He didn't mind doing so as this type of low level flying he had found, was very tiring. As he approached the pair he was hit with the same wave of rage, hate, and despair that the General had overwhelmed him with their first meeting. He hadn't been aware that his metabolism would allow him to dry heave but that's what getting hit with the emotional punch made him feel like doing. He was thankful when Chrysta put up a shield, blocking the destria's access to his mind.

"Not pleasant, is it." She was out of breath and her face had the same sick look on it that Chaos was sure had been on his face just a moment ago. "He does it the entire time I am any where near him. Makes working with him twice as unpleasant as it should be." She glanced towards the town. "We might cause less of a scene if you go in low and from the back. There are a few towns' people just dumb enough to take a pot shot at you." She started the general forward, "I will meet you in the courtyard."

It took her very little time with the help of a demon's strength and speed to get the stallion unsaddled and settled back into his paddock. Nuva remained with him, making him walk in circles until he had a chance to cool off. Chrysta balanced herself against the gate, and as she tiredly rubbed her forehead, Chaos reached out and caught her hand gently in his own clawed one. Spreading it open he realized that her palms and where the reins had run between her fingers were red, raw and bruised. She hissed softly as he traced the red marks with one careful talon.

"Is it like this every time you deal with him? He growled. If looks could kill the destria would have rolled belly up.

"Stop it!" She drew his attention back to her. "He actually wasn't too terribly bad today…." Her voice trailed off as a motion by the door caused the demon to spin around. Grant was there drying his hands on a towel. He didn't flinch as he met Chaos's golden eyes steadily. "You realize that if you don't let her get up to her bath, she is going to end up in the dirt any minute now?"

Startled Chaos looked back at the woman and realized that she was balanced with all of her weight centered on her good leg. Her movements had been so swift and graceful while dealing with the rogue stud he had forgotten about her crippled leg. Before she could protest he scooped her up, and ignoring her surprised yelp he took off and hovered at the open window. He helped her crawl through and then followed her in, the frame a tight fit for his larger form. She was already staggering toward the bathroom and the demon caught the smell of dreamleaf as she turned the water on. When he looked in the small room she was sitting on the edge of the tub looking too tired to even get undressed. The demon didn't blame her; he had a feeling that Valentine was going to be in the same shape when he awoke. At that moment a perfectly wicked thought occurred to him. Chrysta's head snapped up at the nasty chuckle that emanated from him. By the time he finished explaining what he wanted to do she was snickering just as evilly as he was. Gods he really did like the way this woman's mind worked.


	17. Chapter 17

This is a fanfiction. I make no money from it. (But if you like my writing and want to read some of my original work I DO have a short story published through Kindle! just ask) Square Enix holds all rights to the FFVII world and its characters. I own the rights to my original characters and the original parts of this story line!

To Race the Wild Wind CH. 17

The soft feel of water lapping at his chin jerked Vincent into awareness. His first thought was that Chaos hadn't left him in the barn, but that the demon had dumped him into one of tubs that Chrysta kept filled with water for the destria. He struggled to sit up then froze as he registered the fact that the water was very hot. He realized that he was in the huge bathtub in Chrysta's room, and he was NOT alone. A slender but strong arm was draped across his chest, evidently helping to support him so that he didn't slip down while unconscious and drown. An equally strong leg was curved around his hips, anchoring his lower body so that it stayed submerged. The odd, sharp smell of dreamleaf curled lazily up, entwined in wisps of steam.

The gunman had faced down dangerous men, powerful monsters, and his own overwhelming demons, but none of that had caused anything close to the feeling of pure panic that waking up in this particular situation created. Chrysta must have felt his muscles tense in preparation to bale out of the tub, and with her uncannily fast reflexes she had the other arm locked across his chest, preventing him from getting up. Struggling with her just seemed…..undignified…. so he made a supreme effort and held himself stiffly still in the steaming water.

"Chaos, did I ever tell you that you are an ASSHOLE!"

Vincent wasn't surprised when the only answer he received was a sinister snicker. He WAS startled when it was eerily echoed by the woman he was snuggly nestled up against.

"Relax," she breathed softly in his ear. Her husky voice made the little hairs stand up all the way down his body; something he didn't know was possible when entirely submerged in hot water. She slid her toes slowly up the calf of his leg.

"OH YES!"

Chaos's voice was almost a purr in his head.

Vincent's whole body jerked. Undignified or not, he was getting the hell out of the tub. He froze as Chrysta clamped down with her considerable strength and made a choking sound.

"I am so sorry Chaos, I just CAN'T, I...I am going to rupture something if I don't stop!"

Chrysta's sexy voice dissolved into a serious case of the giggles.

"WOMAN, YOU SADLY DISAPPOINT ME!" The demon was having trouble maintaining his stern tone. "GODS, ITS SUCKS THAT NEITHER OF US IS IN A POSITION THAT WE CAN SEE HIS FACE."

Vincent again forced himself to relax. Damn it, if he didn't get these two nipped in the bud right now he would be so screwed later on.

"What happened to the… I won't run around naked if you don't… rule?"

He was inordinately proud of himself when it came out sounding totally unconcerned.

The woman stopped laughing and primly replied,

"Actually, to be totally honest," He could hear the wicked smile in the tone of her voice." Chaos got naked first!"

"CRAP!"

The gunman sank further down into the water. Oh yes, he was SO totally screwed… without the benefit.

Chrysta must have felt sorry for him because she laughed and gently patted his shoulder.

"Actually, even though I knew teasing you would be fun, Chaos made the suggestion because he is familiar with how dreamleaf works and felt you wouldn't try it on your own."

She stretched her bad leg under the water making little waves ripple the length of their bodies.

"He said that you wake up in pain and totally miserable after you shift?"

"Um hum," Vincent reluctantly nodded. He found that it was getting easier and easier to relax.

"Well, since I was drawing the bath for myself anyways, we decided to see if this might help you out too, only I really couldn't deal with my pain for the time required for you to wake and be submerged long enough to do any good." The water rippled again as she shrugged. "The hardest part was figuring the dosage for the two of us together."

Chrysta was absent mindedly making lazy, feather light circles with her long, strong fingers around his nipples; he, all of a sudden, wasn't feeling so relaxed anymore."

"The getting naked part was really… pretty… easy..."

The words trailed off as Vincent caught her fingers in his human hand and guided them down to flatten out across the pale skin of his hard, well muscled stomach. Unconsciously mimicking what Chaos had done earlier, the gunman used one golden claw to carefully trace each of her fingers, pausing each time he encountered the bruising on her hands. The man allowed himself a small self satisfied smile when he saw that all of the fine golden hairs on her forearms were standing at attention.

The smile slipped a little when he felt her warm tongue trace the sensitive outer edge of his ear, the water rippled again with the small shudder that ran through him as she nipped the top with sharp, gentle teeth.

A loud knock on the door to their room startled them both; it was followed by Grant's rough voice.

"Hey Chrysta, if you don't get down to eat soon you won't be able to before the draft competitions start."

"Crap!" this was whispered in the gunman's ear as the woman's hand shot up covering his mouth, muffling his own exclamation of "shit!"

Luckily Chaos's "DAMN!" was only heard by the two in the bathtub. If Chrysta's destria had anything to say, she was keeping it to herself.

Chrysta kept her hand on Vincent's lips and raised her voice to answer the barman.

"Thanks Grant, I will be down in a few."

If the woman could have seen the expression that deepened the crimson of the ex-Turk's eyes she would have been worried. Valentine snatched her hand away from his mouth and his own baritone voice answered the inn keeper.

"Oh yes, I will be down in a moment also."

As the man felt her body jerk in surprise under him and her whispered "ASSHOLE!" caressed his ear, he couldn't stifle his own sinister laugh; three could play the game that Chaos and her had started!

There was no sound from outside the door for a long minute and then a stuttered,

"Ummm… okay then… I will see you when you come down." Grant sounded as if he couldn't wait.

The woman beneath him was perfectly still, then she pushed against his shoulder lightly,

"Really, we do need to get out of this bath before we overdose ourselves."

"Hnnn,"

Vincent levered himself up, fully prepared to bear the pain that usually overwhelmed him when Chaos had taken over and used his body. He was astonished when he felt not even a twinge.

He turned, as using her upper body strength, Chrysta braced herself on the sides of the tub, drew her good leg under her, and then straightened up. Vincent reached out to steady her then froze as he got a clear look at her lithe, muscular body. It wasn't the broad, well shaped shoulders or high, moderately sized, PERFECT breasts that drew a soft hiss from his lips. It was the scope of the injury that had caused her crippled walk. The scar started high on her ribcage just under and to the left of her left breast. It bisected down, across her ribs and slanted to the right. Chrysta's ribcage was slightly misaligned, attesting to the fact that the bones had been cut through, along with muscle and flesh. It continued down, cutting deeply across her flat stomach and then curled lazily around her right hip. The muscles had healed but were twisted back on themselves breaking her smooth outline as the scar followed down the outside of the leg then curved back to the front of her ankle. It was obvious that her femur and tibia had been broken at the same time as the flesh had been torn.

The ex-Turk could only assume that the General's front inside spur had done this in a strike much like the one he had seen her avoid the night she brought the stallion in. Gods, he thought, how was she still walking with that kind of muscle and nerve damage? For that matter, how the hell had she avoided death? This level of injury was not accidental; the big silver had struck with the intention to kill.

"VALENTINE!"

The residual anger being repressed and something else not as identifiable in Chaos's soft exclamation brought his attention back up to Chrysta's face.

The woman had withdrawn from his helping hands, a look that was a mixture of sadness and {fear?} flitted through her eyes, only to be hastily covered by cold resignation. Vincent was an expert on the fear of rejection and by the Gods he wouldn't be the cause of it in someone he cared about. His hands dropped lightly on her very nice shoulders and drew her carefully back towards him. His carnelian eyes never left her gold and green ones until his lips met hers.

Gentleness WAS in his nature and he patiently held her mouth with his until her lips softened and her wonderfully strong arms entwined themselves through his raven hair to fall around his neck. As Chrysta's wet body pressed firmly up against his, her mouth opened allowing the kiss to deepen and his tongue to enter to stroke softly along her teeth and lips. He was amazed at her spicy, smoky, sweet flavor. When the gunman breathlessly ended it, they just stood motionless, their breath mingling together in the steamy air. The eyes that opened and held his crimson, gold gaze, were deep green shot through with blue, gold, and the yellow that burned at the heart of a star.

"So…" a desire like nothing he had ever felt before made his voice deeper, harsher than the norm, "…how much time do you have before you have to leave?"

Something flashed in those unusual eyes, and her hands untangled themselves from his hair to slide down his back and firmly cup his buttocks, pulling him against her.

"Not enough," she answered. "When we do this, I for one, don't want to be rushed."

Chrysta's hand left his ass and he had no time to react as a wicked smile curved her passion swollen lips. Her other hand kept him pinned against her as she turned the shower faucet on as high as it would go. His bath partner grinned, tucking her head against his chest as the ice cold water hit them like one of the north rims glaciers. She didn't know who screamed louder, the gunman or the demon he hosted. It didn't really matter as she was sure Vincent's shocked scream could be heard clear down in the common room.

Ten minutes later, they were seated downstairs being served a large, well prepared breakfast. Chrysta kept her head down, using her food as an excuse to not directly meet the glowering crimson gaze that the gunman pinned her with. Grant opened his mouth once to make a comment about their wet hair, only to be skewered by the same red gaze and the younger man's trigger finger twitching. He wisely decided to keep his mouth shut.


	18. Chapter 18

This is a not for profit fan fiction. I make no money from it. Square Enix holds all rights to the FFVII world and its characters. I am just playing with them for a while. I DO own the rights to the original parts of this story line and to my original characters. Please do not use without my permission.

To Race the Wild Wind CH. 18

As Chrysta was finishing up her breakfast, Grant ambled over and let her know that the stable hand had the drafters hitched and ready to go. Taking a last drink out of her cup, she glanced at Vincent who had contented himself with only coffee.

"Well," she smiled at him. "You two have already had a pretty busy morning, do you feel like riding along today, or do you have other plans?"

The woman's eyes twinkled merrily at him; she was certainly feeling her oats it seemed.

The gunman stretched a little. He was amazed at how GOOD he felt. Normally, after a Chaos excursion, he was too wiped to do anything but rest.

"EXACTLY… what are you, or we, going to be doing?"

HA…he thought… Vincent Valentine wasn't born yesterday; she wasn't going to get the best of him this time. He ignored Chaos's dark chuckle at this thought.

Chrysta turned her cup in her hands absentmindedly,

"Well, first thing is the draft competitions. Don Ricardo's team is entered in the weight pulling contest. And I have a team entered into the precision driving." She stretched a little and glanced over at the ex-Turk. "The precision driving requires a driver and a passenger. Andrew hates taking the time to just ride along, he has a lot to do just getting everyone primped and hitched. I am SURE he wouldn't mind if you took his place."

"All I have to do is ride along?"

Vincent thought hard about it, then, he couldn't help himself, he broke down and asked Chaos's opinion; the demon had a lot more practice dealing with devious females than he did. (He hoped) "What do you think Chaos?"

"HMMM, WELL, IT SOUNDS INNOCENT ENOUGH, ALTHOUGH I WONDER WHAT SHE MEANS BY PRIMPED? I WOULD ASSUME SHE MEANS THE DESTRIA? IT…. MIGHT BE FUN."

The hesitancy that he heard in the demon's voice inspired no confidence what so ever in the ex-Turk. CRAP! He thought, she is making BOTH of us paranoid.

"We don't really have anything planned; it sounds like it might be fun."

The gunman winced when the woman across from him flashed him a shark like smile as she caught the uncertainty in his tone. He had the sinking feeling that they had just made a BIG mistake.

Vincent tried to ignore Chaos's uncomfortable squirming in his mind as he followed her out to the courtyard.

"CHAOS, stop it! If you were that worried about this, you should have said so."

"SORRY!"

The demon almost sounded panicked as Chrysta glanced back at them. Her smile got even broader.

True to his word, Andrew had the two huge drafters hitched and waiting patiently for their driver. A smaller, lighter built team was tethered to the back of the wagon; they were covered with soft blankets, evidently to keep them clean until their event. Chrysta swung up into the high seat, and indicated that Vincent sit next to her.

Gathering up the reins, she glanced around as Andrew climbed into the back,

"Vincent's volunteered for the precision shotgun position today, so you are off the hook."

The look of relief that crossed the young man's face and his heartfelt, "REALLY, that's GREAT!" did nothing for the gunman's worried state of mind.

Chrysta released the brakes,

"Hyup, Jeremy! Hyup Joshua!"

As she called each drafter's name their heads came up and they moved forward taking the slack out of the traces. Their driver flicked the reins across their broad backs and with a sharp "Get up boys," they were rumbling out on to the street.

The drafter barn was a mad house of huge destria, teams of men, and dust. As soon as they pulled in, Andrew took the two smaller drafters and tied them in separate stalls, he then unhooked Jeremy and Joshua from the wagon and led them out to be tied in their designated slot, waiting for the pulls to start. Chrysta went with them and spent quite a bit of time with the young stable hand going over every inch of the two massive animal's harnesses.

Vincent concentrated on just observing the remarkably ordered chaos and staying out of the way. As he watched, the gunman realized that, although the drafters were known to be much more "sedate" than the average destria, they were far from trustworthy. And their sheer size made them very dangerous. Chrysta was called away a couple of times to deal with injuries caused by distracted people getting surprised by unruly destria. One man had his hand crushed and torn wide open when he made the mistake of wrapping a lead rope around it and the big mare he was leading stepped on the end and threw her massive head up. Chrysta expertly cleaned and wrapped it but the tough old man wouldn't agree to go see the town doc until after the competition.

One young man got caught by a surprise blow from a monstrous, cloven hoof. He was carried out, covered by a sheet. His entire chest had been caved in and his death was instantaneous. The ex-Turk just shook his head in amazement as Chrysta ducked in and out amongst the big animals helping out where she was wanted. Even the nastiest of the drafters seemed to calm when she was near them. There was more than one envious glance towards Don Ricardo's team. Joshua and Jeremy just stood quietly hip shot and watched the activity with what looked like amusement on their long faces.

A large crowd had gathered by the time the competition started, evidently this was one of the more popular of the festivals events. Chrysta and Andrew gathered Vincent up when they took the team out to the arena. Andrew even convinced the gunman to wager on Don Ricardo's team even though there were a couple of teams who were bigger and heavier.

Chrysta winked at him as she passed, "Sometimes," she grinned slyly, "size isn't everything."

The contest rules were relatively simple. Each team was hooked to a sled that was loaded with large concrete blocks. The pulls started with three thousand pounds of weight. The competitors had two tries at each weight, to pull the sled thirty feet. The weight increased with each round.

At first all of the teams had no problems with the pull, but as the weight crept up over the five ton mark some of the drafters started dropping out. By the time the weight rose to ten tons, the field was narrowed down to four teams. There was a huge set of solid blacks, a smaller set of lovely dappled gold destria with black manes and tails and black striping on their legs, Chrysta's team of bays was about midway between those two teams in size and the last team was an evil tempered, massive set of dappled grey twins. These monstrous destria belonged to Don Diego and their handler was none other than the red head, Rave.

Eleven tons was the limit for the smaller team and they dropped out after only moving the load twenty feet. The judges increased the load to thirteen tons. The Blacks danced and jived at the line and when their stable hand fumbled the lich pin they took off yanking the driver from his seat and dragging him face first through the dirt a good fifteen feet before he got them stopped. By the time he wrestled them back to the line they were foaming with sweat and frothing at the mouth. This time when the lich pin dropped they surged forwards but the sled ground to a halt at the halfway mark; their competition was at an end. Don Diego's team moved the load the full distance with Rave liberally applying the whip. Chrysta's pair dug in and moved it with little difficulty.

When the judges upped the weight to fifteen tons a murmur swept through the crowd. If either team could make the distance they would set a record. Chrysta and Andrew had a hushed conversation, and then Chrysta walked slowly around her team. She ran her hands over their sweaty necks and haunches. Using her sensitive fingers she carefully checked each animal's legs. When she was done, she stood at their heads; both drafters dropped their bearded muzzles down and seemed to be sharing breathes with her. The woman gave a determined nod, and with a final pat on soft noses she turned to watch Rave's pull.

The red head backed his team as far as they could back. He started flipping their back legs and rumps with his whip while holding them tight with the reins. After few moments of this both animals were dancing in place and bloody foam flew from their mouths. His stable hands dropped the lich pin and Rave cracked the pair hard, they launched forward and hit their collars with brutal force. The crowd was remarkably silent, the only sounds the crack of Rave's whip, his shouted curses, the harsh grunts of the drafters, and alarming creaks and pops coming from the destria's harnesses and drag chains. With small jerks, the load started to move. The massive greys had their heads down, shoulders low and straining as they moved forward one hard fought step at a time, but even with their supreme effort the sled came to a stop on the eleven foot mark. Rave laid the whip on hard leaving long bleeding welts on the gleaming hides. The judges frowned but did not interfere. Both drafters strained, red eyed, in their harnesses, trying to give him what he wanted. A wave of blood burst from the off animals nostril's.

Vincent heard Chrysta as she angrily muttered, "Any time now."

As she said this, the near animal screamed and just exploded, Harnessed as he was, he couldn't go anywhere but the beast made his displeasure known by rearing and bucking in place, and kicking back as hard as he could at the sled and his handler. Rave baled off the sled as the second animal enthusiastically joined in, the ground shuddering under the team's combined weight. Vincent wondered how they were going to get the two back under control, as no one dared approached them. Chrysta stood quietly and just watched until one of the judges drew a large caliber pistol. Then the ex-Turk saw her stiffen and her eyes flashed to red as she did the impossible and "Locked" down two drafters whose minds were not known to her. Both animals froze, shaking, and stayed that way as handlers got them unhitched and positioned between two other big drafters. As Chrysta released her "lock" sagging a little, the two were dragged reluctantly out of the arena. Rave exited the arena with the boo's and jeers of the audience ringing in his ears.

They gradually silenced as Chrysta led Joshua and Jeremy out to the repositioned sled. All she had to do was get over the eleven foot mark to win, but if her team could make the full thirty feet, well that would be something to see. She carefully backed the team in and Andrew dropped the lich pin. She kept backing them until they stood with the traces slack. Then she just sat for a moment and Vincent could see her mouth moving as she quietly talked to the mighty beasts. The atmosphere was electric in the arena, the silence complete as she tighten her reins, both destria cocked there massive heads and their muscles tensed.

"COME GEE, Joshua!"

The words echoed in the quiet, and both drafters surged to the right, the sled jerked sideways a little.

"COME, HAW," Jeremy!"

Again the drafters shifted, slamming hard to the left and the sled broke free from the dirt holding it. The team dug in hard and suddenly the impossible load was up and moving. Chrysta straightened them out and her voice cracked out seemingly as loud as Rave's whip,

"HYUP! HYUP! HYUP MOVE IT BOYS!"

Massive rump muscles rolling and rippling, the big beasts dropped their shoulders, huge cloven hoofs bit deep into the dirt and the sled picked up speed. A murmur of sound rolled through the arena and started to build as they passed the eleven foot mark. Both Joshua and Jeremy were now foaming along their necks and sides and froth was gathering around their mouths.

Vincent could see Chrysta gathering her reins in preparation to stop the team. Jeremy, the oldest of the pair snorted, shook his massive horned head and snatched the bit between his teeth. The crowd roared as the pair continued to pull almost down on their front knees. The noise solidified in to a chant. "GO! GO! GO!" Vincent realized with a start that he was hollering with the rest of them. They past the twenty foot mark. Chaos was shouting in Vincent's mind, GO GO, the destria couldn't hear him but Chrysta could. Chrysta shrugged and her HYUP! HYUP! joined in. The driver knew she was just along for the ride now. They passed the twenty five foot line and the noise was now deafening. As they crossed the thirty foot mark, the crowd literally came unglued, clapping screaming and stomping. Hats sailed into the arena as overly enthusiastic fans threw them.

"WHOA!"

Chrysta hauled back on the reins determined to stop the team and they responded by immediately grinding to a halt. She was off of the high seat in a heartbeat, unbuckling and unsnapping the harnesses from the trembling giants. Their super heated breath steamed in the air like dragon's smoke and heat rolled off of their bodies in waves, rising from their heavily sweating hides. Vincent and Andrew joined the woman in peeling off the leather and collars until the bays only wore their headstalls. The two handlers got them moving in a staggering walk, making the team traverse the arena, allowing them time to cool without seizing up. The crowd was on its feet in a standing ovation, and the drafters responded, arching muscled necks, flagging their tails and high stepping like young colts. Chrysta's face broke in a huge smile as she affectionately slapped Jeremy on his heavy shoulder. Even after they had exited the arena and entered the drafter's barn, the sound still echoed in their ears.

Chrysta and Andrew turned the team over to a couple other stable hands and Andrew hurriedly departed, muttering something about getting the others ready. The young man handed Vincent a neatly wrapped package as he passed, ducking his head to hide the smile playing around his lips. The ex-Turk looked at Chrysta suspiciously,

"What's this?"

She had a package of her own, and she snagged the gunman's elbow leading him towards a row of doors.

"Oh didn't I tell you?" She made a real effort to sound innocent. "There is a dress code for the precision driving; Andrew is pretty close to your size so that should fit pretty well."

Vincent realized the doors opened to dressing rooms. Before he could react or say another word, she abandoned him in front of one room and quickly disappeared into another. Her parting words of, "See you in a minute." Came from behind the already closed door and it sounded like she was trying to smother laughter.

Vincent stood perfectly still for a full minute trying to think of a way to get out of this.

"SUCK IT UP!" Chaos growled, "WE TOLD HER WE WOULD DO THIS."

With a sigh the gunman slipped into the dressing room and locked the door. He almost bolted out of it when he opened the package and saw his soon to be attire. It consisted of formal dress from a forgotten age. There were tight pants; they reminded him almost of a type of tights, knee high close fitting boots of soft leather that laced up the calf, a white, loose fitting long sleeved blouse with stitched metallic dragons coiling around the wrist cuffs, and a tight, long, sleeveless overcoat/vest. The boots and pants were a deep unrelenting crimson, the over vest was the same deep red. Heavily embroidered, glimmering gold and crimson dragons intertwined and weaved their way over every inch of its surface. There was also a crimson and gold woven dragon… tiara? Evidently it was meant to be worn on his head.

"Crap, this is bad!" was all he could think.

"HMM…. NO…. THIS IS A LITTLE LIKE CEREMONIAL COURT DRESS WHERE I COME FROM. I THINK I HAVE AN IDEA!" Chaos sounded thoughtful but there was a devious note running through his voice. "RELAX AND LET ME SHOW YOU HOW THIS IS DONE."

Chrysta {or Andrew} had managed to gather a small crowd of stable hands together by the time Vincent stepped out of that little room. What started out as anticipatory snickers faded to complete silence except for a couple of indrawn breaths. For a moment, the man just stood as all eyes targeted him. Chaos had shown him how to lace, tuck and tweak the odd clothes until they clung to him like they had been tailored to his long slim form. The blouse and long vest emphasized his broad shoulders, narrow waist, elegant hips and well formed butt. The boots and pants showed every line of his long, slender, hard muscled legs. The demon had suggested that Vincent remove his red head wrap and had used the tiara to sleek down and hold back the flowing raven hair. Bright metal caught the light like flames making the dragons look like a living crown. With his pale skin, and coldly regal features, the people who watched the gunslinger were reminded that some of them descended from the lines of kings. With his claw, which Chaos had him hastily polish, this one could have been descended from mythical dragon kings.

Vincent/Chaos ignored the crowd, focusing in on Chrysta who wore almost the same outfit. Chaos made some minute physiological adjustments, and Vincent's crimson eyes flashed red and gold. The woman stood silent, full lips slightly parted, as they began their walk, closing the distance between them. Chaos had partial control and he showed Vincent how to change his all ready graceful walk into a sexually charged, flowing prowl. Chaos also released tendrils of sexuality causing them to flow along his and Chrysta's partial link; by the time they reached the motionless woman, her eyes had gotten huge and shifted colors to a stormy green. The woman seemed to have difficulty swallowing against a suddenly dry mouth. When they were directly in front of her, Chaos took over and preformed a slow, sensual, intricate court bow while he raised Chrysta's stunned, limp hand to his mouth for a courtly kiss. She shuddered slightly as the demon's warm breath and soft lips were replaced by a sharp nip than a casual sweep of his tongue on her wrist's pulse point. When he looked into her eyes they were glazed and she was swaying slightly. Vincent couldn't conceal the self satisfied smirk that slid across his lips.

"GOTCHA…" Chaos purred.

* * *

One of these days I am gonna draw this last scene...Specially Valentines outfit!


	19. Chapter 19

This is a not for profit fan fiction. I make no money from it. Square Enix holds all rights to the FFVII world and its characters. I am just playing with them for a while. I DO own the rights to the original parts of this story line and to my original characters. Please do not use without my permission.

To Race the Wild Wind CH. 19

Chrysta stood totally still, seemingly mesmerized by the hand that was held, nestled in his own. The tip of her tongue snuck out, wetting suddenly dry lips, as those stormy green eyes traveled up his chest and met his flashing crimson ones.

"Well….I can't say as that I recall ANYONE filling out that outfit in quite that way before!"

Her words came out husky, whispered almost against his lips. They were interrupted by wolf whistles and cat calls from the barn crowd, and Chrysta staggered hard up against him as she was pushed from behind. Chaos snarled and Vincent's head snapped up, intending on giving the rude person the scare of his life. He found himself looking... up… into the glowing amber eyes of two very amused destria. Andrew had brought the precision team up and the beautifully brindled, red striped over gold pair evidently thought the whole scene was highly entertaining.

Chrysta hastily stepped back her cheeks flushing a light pink. HA...Vincent thought, we finally made HER blush for a change. Chaos snickered evilly and gave him a mental nudge. The man looked up and realized with a stirring of panic that there were more than a few lustful visages in the aisle and many of them WEREN'T female. Valentine was intensely grateful when Chrysta motioned for him to join her up in the driver's seat on the ornate, dragon decorated Brougham and they escaped out of the barn.

Later that afternoon, as they sat in the dimness of the Ironwood having a late lunch, Chrysta laid all of the blame for only coming in third in the precision driving at Vincent's feet.

"What, you LOST?"

Grant, who had topped off their drinks and was heading back to the bar, swung around in shock.

"Well let's just say it's REALLY hard to concentrate on the course, when you have other… THINGS… on your mind."

And she wasn't kidding, she mused, every time the closely seated, darkly beautiful gunman's arm or shoulder had brushed hers, she had been unable to control the slight jerk, shiver, or twitch of her hand. It had screwed up her driving completely! Grant's eyebrows gave crawling right off the top of his head their best shot. Then he snickered and headed back to his bar.

Chrysta grinned at the look of guilt that crossed the ex-Turk's face.

"It's really no big deal. I only entered the brindled team to show them off and to lure in prospective buyers. "Having you," she nudged the quiet man's arm gently, "as eye candy drove the bidding up sharply." She smiled wickedly at him, "You would be SURPRISED at some of the offers I got."

"I WOULDN'T BE!" Chaos was definitely feeling a little smug.

Her eyes darkened to a smoldering green,

"No… I wasn't surprised by them either. Where did you learn how to play THAT kind of game?"

Chaos was so quiet for a moment that they thought he wasn't going to answer her,

"WHERE I CAME FROM, THAT KIND OF… GAME… IS PART OF COURT PROTOCOL. IF YOU DON'T GET DAMN GOOD AT IT WHILE YOU ARE YOUNG, YOU DON'T SURVIVE."

"Where you came from?" Vincent couldn't hide the surprise in his voice.

"OH YES VALENTINE, I HAD A LIFE BEFORE BEING TRAPPED IN YOU! ONE THAT I WAS SAVAGELY YANKED OUT OF BY HOJO AND LUCRENCIA. I LOST ALL CHANCE TO RETURN TO IT WHEN YOU AND I WERE MELDED!"

The demon's iron control slipped and Vincent's mind was flooded with anger, bitterness, and a terrible sorrow. Chrysta gasped and jerked as she also caught the brunt of it. Seeing her distress, Chaos made a real effort to rein in the emotional flood.

Vincent sat in stunned silence as a terrible guilt overwhelmed him.

"Chaos, I am so sorry! I didn't know…."

"AND YOU DIDN'T ASK."

Anger flashed again, then the demon lord sighed, and remembering the man's emotional instability, took pity on the ex-Turk and relented,

"IT'S OKAY VALENTINE, IT'S NOT LIKE YOU DIDN'T HAVE ENOUGH TO DEAL WITH AS IT WAS. AT FIRST, I HATED ALL HUMANS EQUALLY. I KNOW I DIDN'T GO OUT OF MY WAY TO MAKE YOUR LIFE ANY EASIER. AND I AM THE ONE WHO SHOULD APOLOGIZE FOR THAT. YOU ARE NOT THE ONE WHO CREATED THIS MESS AND YOU CERTAINLY HAD A HAND IN HELPING ME DEAL WITH IT. IT WASN'T UNTIL YOU STOPPED ME FROM FULFILLING MY DESTINY AS SQUIRE TO OMEGA PREMATURELY, THAT MY HEAD CLEARED AND I REALIZED I NEEDED TO DEAL WITH THE SITUATION DIFFERANTLY. YOUR FRIENDS AND YOU MADE ME REALIZE THAT THERE ARE BEINGS HERE AS COURAGEOUS AND NOBLE AS ANY I KNEW ON MY WORLD."

"So… Hojo ruined your life too." The gunman almost whispered the words.

"YES AND NO," Chaos sounded thoughtful. "YES… HE RUINED THE LIFE THAT I HAD. BUT I WILL NOT LET HOJO PREVAIL. I DECIDED THAT I WOULD LIVE THE LIFE THAT I HAVE NOW, SUCH AS IT IS, TO THE BEST OF MY ABILITIES. A DECISION, I WILL POINT OUT THAT YOU, VINCENT VALENTINE, HAVE YET TO MAKE."

Vincent was too stunned to say anything; he glanced at the woman sitting across from him, curious about her reaction to the part of the conversation she could hear.

She blinked and looked directly back at him, chestnut eyebrows arched in amazement.

"I told you before that I was pretty sure HE didn't consider himself a demon."

A sad smile played across her lips when Chaos harrumphed in reaction.

"And, for a demon, he makes some very valid points, quite eloquently I might add."

The sound of a throat clearing made them both jump. Grant had returned with a fresh pitcher of iced tea and an extra glass. He had a group of rolled maps tucked under one arm and a couple of pencils stuck haphazardly behind his ears. The gunman stared in astonishment; he found it very hard to believe that the older man had ever been a Turk.

The big man smiled amiably,

"I hate to disturb what looks like an intense conversation," He shrugged apologetically, "but if you are leaving this evening, Chrysta you need to decide the route you are going to take."

The barman slipped smoothly into an empty chair and with a couple of efficient moves had their drinks topped off and the maps spread out on the table. Chrysta picked up her glass, sipped some tea and made an outrageous face at the maps.

"GODS," she groaned, "how I do HATE festival week!"

Grant looked at her without sympathy,

"So retire, at least then I wouldn't have to listen to you whine."

"I do NOT whine!" was her indignant reply.

Those remarkable eyes narrowed dangerously as Vincent choked on his tea. Chaos wisely made no comment.

The gunman finally got the tea swallowed and his voice was still a little unsteady as he asked,

"So, you are going somewhere tonight?"

Chrysta nodded to him absent mindedly as she was following a line Grant had drawn on one of the maps.

"Umm Humm, there are several routes you can take to complete the Gauntlet. Some traverse easier terrain, but are longer in distance. Some are quite a bit shorter, but a lot more dangerous in the territory they cover." She met his eyes for a moment, "Sometimes winning is more a matter of strategy than speed. I need to ride the course in advance and decide which way I am going to take Inferno on race day.

"HOLD ON," Chaos was almost growling, "THERE IS NO WAY YOU CAN GO OUT AND BE BACK BEFORE NIGHT FALL."

"Yes, that is true, I will have to rough it tonight and plan on being back tomorrow afternoon."

Chrysta leaned back and the look she gave him had Vincent (not for the first time) wishing avidly that he could separate himself from the demon. Her dispassionate tone was dangerously neutral

Is that a problem?"

"Shut up Chaos." Vincent was whispering the words in his head.

"I WILL NOT SHUT UP VALENTINE! RIDING ALONE, AT NIGHT, IS JUST PLAIN…ST…"

The words trailed off as the woman leaned forward, her ice cold green eyes trapping the ex-Turk's crimson ones.

Grant looked as if he was getting ready to duck and cover as Chrysta smiled. It wasn't a nice smile, as a matter of fact, Vincent was pretty sure he had seen nicer smiles on the muzzles of Neibelhiem wolves just before they tried to eat him.

"Well, I guess if you are THAT worried about me doing something as….unwise…as riding out alone, maybe you should…"

"RIDE ALONG WITH YOU?"

The gunman had never heard the demon sound sheepish before, it was disconcerting to say the least.

"UmmmHumm…"

The woman gave Chaos a couple more seconds to squirm under her hard glare, then went back to studying her maps.

Vincent, who had been entertaining thoughts of a hot shower, a glass of red wine, and maybe even relaxing with a good book that evening, thought about how sore he had been after just a few hours of riding.

"CRAP! Well thanks a lot Chaos, next time I say Shut Up! SHUT UP!"

These words were delivered with a sarcastic sting.

"SORRY VALENTINE," The demon was very quiet for a moment, and then, as if he just couldn't help himself, he added. "THIS MIGHT NOT BE SO BAD, YOU KNOW, MOONLIGHT, BEING ALONE IN THE DARK, A BIG HOT BODY MOVING BETWEEN YOUR LEGS, NAKED BODIES INTERTWINED BY A CAMPFIRE."

Chrysta's head snapped up while Vincent buried his face in his hands.

"HEY, I AM A DEMON, I AM SUPPOSED….."

Vincent cut him off.

"I know, I know! You are supposed to have depraved appetites."

"AHHH," Chaos sighed happily, "YOU ARE FINALLY STARTING TO UNDERSTAND ME."

* * *

Reviews are always appreciated!


	20. Chapter 20

This is a not for profit fan fiction. I make no money from it. Square Enix holds all rights to the FFVII world and its characters. I am just playing with them for a while. I DO own the rights to the original parts of this story line and to my original characters. Please do not use without my permission.

BONUS CHAPTER...just cause I is feeling generous tonight!

To Race the Wild Wind CH. 20

The evening breeze rustled softly through the overhead branches as Zephyr and Nuva cantered along a narrow path. Chrysta had kept them to the ground eating pace for a couple of hours, and although their mounts were still fresh, Vincent was beginning to wonder if they were going to ride the course straight through. Nuva grunted as if in agreement, and then stumbled violently, almost flipping Vincent over her neck. With difficulty she regained her footing but her next couple of strides were marred by a serious limp. Chrysta brought Zephyr to a sudden halt and slid off of him. Vincent was off of Nuva before she came to a complete stop. The woman ran careful hands down both of Nuva's slender front legs then straightened up frowning as the mare held up the left one and looked pitiful.

"Humph," Chrysta eyed the cream suspiciously and the mare looked back in total innocence. "Well I don't see anything wrong," The woman glanced up through the tree's, calculating how much light they had left. "I hate to stop here for the night when there are better places ahead, but, better safe than sorry."

Zephyr stomped impatiently and the woman's eyes shifted to gold for a moment as she conversed with the big black.

"Are you sure?"

She sounded doubtful. Zephyr tossed his head, and chortled at her. Her eyebrows arched in reaction to whatever he said and she shrugged,

"Okay, it's your back."

With that she turned back to Vincent.

"It seems that macho man here," she stabbed a finger at Zephyr, "thinks that he can carry us double until we get to our planned stop. Are you game?"

The gunman looked at the big male who looked right back with an amused, arrogant, challenge in his golden eyes.

"I don't see as how it would be a problem."

Chrysta gave a little shrug,

"Okay, if you males think you are up to it, then who am I to stand in your way?"

She walked over and started to strip the saddle and pads off of the black's broad back. The only piece of tack she left on him was the odd harness that encircled the base of Zephyr's neck. It carried the sheathed sword that she had used in her dressage demonstration.

Vincent felt Chaos stir a little in alarm as Nuva made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a snicker. Chrysta gave both destria a narrow eyed look but didn't say a word as she tied the now spare tack onto the cream's saddle. Vincent watched in amazement as heading back to Zephyr, the rider grabbed a handful of his thick black mane, scrambled up his heavy shoulder and perched herself on the animals bare back.

The gunman was sure he heard her mutter,

"I… am getting to old for this CRAP!"

When Chrysta had herself comfortable and was centered, she offered her hand and helped the ex-Turk to swing up behind her. It only took him a moment to figure out that riding in this manner was going to be an interesting proposition at best. As the woman moved the black out into an easy walk, Vincent realized that without stirrups there was very little to balance himself with. The gunman had to readjust Cerberus's holster so the big gun wouldn't be poking anybody (most importantly Zephyr) in uncomfortable places. Chrysta had arched an eloquent eyebrow at him when he had insisted upon bringing the triple bored handgun, but had said nothing when Chaos had strongly backed him.

The man was also VERY aware that Chrysta's warm, firm butt was cradled snuggly between his legs; their thighs rubbed gently where they nestled against each other, and he was pressed tightly against her strong back. The ex-Turk tried to wiggle back to a more discrete distance but Zephyr chortled and did SOMETHING with his ass end that scooted him forward, right back into the same disconcerting position. When Vincent tried to scoot back again, Nuva, who was pacing quietly beside them snorted and used her big head to push him forwards.

"You might as well give it up and try to enjoy yourself."

Chrysta reached back and guided his hands around her waist. He could tell she was suppressing her laughter.

"They won't give up once they have an idea firmly entrenched in their devious little minds." She slapped the big black male's shoulder in exasperated affection.

"Now, hold on." She warned.

The woman urged Zephyr to increase his pace and Vincent tightened his grip, carefully bracing for the jarring trot he knew was coming. He was surprised when Zephyr shifted into a gear that was as fast as the trot but seemed as smooth as silk. Nuva followed suite and the gunman noticed that there was no trace of a limp in her flowing gait. She caught him looking at her and rewarded him with a cheeky wink.

"This is called a running walk," Chrysta informed him over her shoulder. "It isn't as fast as a canter but it's a lot easier on Zephyr's back when he is carrying this big a load."

Vincent took her earlier advice and tried to relax as the big animals flowed along. It wasn't as hard as he thought it would be. Because he didn't have to watch the trail or handle any reins, he could look around and enjoy the scenery. There was a lot here in the way of plants and animals that he had not seen before. The forest in this river valley was deep, and the huge hardwood trees that they passed under, had the aura of being very old. These woods didn't have the hostile air that the mountain forests of Neibelhiem had, but there was the feeling that there were ancient dwellers here.

Chaos, on the other hand, wasn't enjoying the scenery; he was relishing in the wonderful physical sensations that the gunman being pressed up this close to a desirable female was causing. Vincent could almost hear the demon humming softly as he inundated himself with pleasurable sensations.

Neither the demon nor the man was as alert to danger as they would normally have been. Chrysta had her attention divided between guiding the black and the cream along the twisting path and keeping herself and her passenger mounted. Dusk was darkening the forest around them when a flicker in the trees caught the gunman's attention. It was all of the warning they had. Two scaly, long necked chocobos from hell burst from the trees on their right, two more came in from the left.

Vincent quickly realized that these things only shared a chocobos general shape. They stood as tall as a man on two heavily muscled and taloned legs. Their front limbs ended in three nasty hooked claws and their faces were nothing but red eyes and gaping mouths full of long, dagger like teeth. He could feel Chrysta trying to get her reins shifted to one hand to free the other so she could draw her sword. Zephyr started to slow in preparation to fight.

"No!" Vincent tightened his legs, driving his heels hard into the black's sensitive sides. With a surprised grunt the big black exploded into a driving gallop. The ex-Turk could hear what Chrysta couldn't; there were more of the pack coming up the trail behind them.

As one of the creatures on the left launched itself at them Vincent drew Cerberus with one hand whilst pushing Chrysta forward and down with the other.

"Stay down and drive!"

Was all he had time to shout. He fired across and over her, catching the attacking creature in the face. His second shot caught that one's partner, breaking its leg and sending it tumbling into the trees. A blur of motion had him shifting to the right and his third shot ruffled through Nuva's mane as he picked off one of the pack that had launched itself at the mare.

A heavy weight slammed into his back almost knocking him off. Hot fire slashed across one thigh as curved talons sliced through skin and muscle. He heard Nuva scream and the weight disappeared. The enraged mare had reached over and grabbed the beast in her fanged mouth. The gunman heard the cracking of bones as the mare's powerful jaws broke the thrashing creatures back. With a disgusted wrinkle of her lips Nuva dropped it, and added insult to injury by trampling it as she passed over the twitching body.

The ex-Turk reloaded automatically, as the monsters behind them started dropping back. Motion in the trees had him snapping the gun up as different pack members took up the chase. The gunman managed to bring another down but the creatures evidently had some intelligence and they ducked and dodged using the trees as shields. With a sinking sensation he realized that although the pack wasn't fast enough to catch them in an all out, straight race, they were relaying, hoping to exhaust their prey and bring them down. Nuva had a chance of out running and out lasting them, but she stayed, stretched out at the black's side. Because of the extra load he was carrying, Zephyr was already laboring.

With a curse, Chrysta turned the big male, going off of the trail and heading into the trees.

"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?"

Chaos knew that with the trees slowing them down, they had no hope of out running the beasts. He also knew that with the interlocking branches closing over them that if Vincent SHIFTED forms, he would not have the wing room to get airborne.

"I am heading for the river," Chrysta was breathless, working at threading two large, fast moving animals through the trees without the riders getting scraped or knocked off. "Those Gods be damned things CAN'T swim!"

Two of the creatures who were faster than the others jumped from the trees trying to sink wicked talons into Zephyr's heaving rump. The big black squealed and caught one with both hind hooves almost unseating the gunman. It rolled to the ground. Vincent slashed the other across its ugly face with his own deadly claws. It snarled and twisted away. Before it could jump again, Vincent's shot made sure it went down. They broke out of the trees, and the gunman saw that they had a clear run to the river, but at least ten of the pack had broken off and were coming up along the river's bank, flattened out in a deadly race, trying to cut the destria off from safety. Chrysta was crooning at the flagging black trying to get just a little more out of him. The gunman took three more of the creatures down but realized as he reloaded that they were going to lose this race. He turned control over to Chaos.

Zephyr staggered as the weight on his back suddenly increased. Chaos flared black wings wide, and their speed gave him the lift he needed to rise and then dive into the seven pack members who now blocked their path to the river. They went down in a writhing ball of flailing tails, scaly limbs, flashing teeth and slashing claws. The pursuing creatures slid to a stop to join the fray. The demon's ploy worked and a path opened for the racing destria to slip through. They pounded to the edge. This was not a good place on the river to cross; the water ran cold, fast, and deep. The black didn't hesitate to leap in. Nuva slowed for a moment, sending a distressed look after Chrysta, and then she doubled back and plowed into the battling mess on the bank.

Chaos found himself in deep trouble, he was badly outnumbered and the sheer weight of his adversaries had him off of his feet, pinned with his wings trapped beneath him, and fighting for his life. He roared with rage, kicking slashing and even biting. He felt Nuva's massive weight plow into them, knocking slavering creatures everywhere. He roared again when she reached down, buried her fangs in his shoulder and yanked him out from under the pile. Kicking, and squalling she cleared a way and dragged the demon to the rivers edge. She released her grip and leaped into the roiling water.

Chaos tried to take off but as he cleared the ground three of the beasts hit him from behind and their combined weight dragged him down into the icy depths. Chrysta was right, the beasts sank like rocks, and unfortunately because they had attached themselves to various parts of his anatomy, so did the demon. As he worked to unlock their death locked jaws, Chaos wondered if an immortal could drown. He managed to get them off of him, but was too cold and tired to fight the vicious current. Even with the icy water, loss of blood and lack of oxygen were taking their toll. He felt a rush of displaced water and Nuva's big body appeared downstream from him. The mare fought the current making it to his side, and turned presenting her tail. He wasn't too proud to take the offer. He tangled his claws in it and with their combined strength they made it to the far bank.

As soon as Nuva cleared the water, Chaos released her tail. He managed to drag himself halfway up the bank then had to stop. The demon stayed there balanced on his hands and knees, gasping and choking, trying to clear the water out of his lungs. Gods, he felt like he had swallowed half of the river. With a supreme effort he levered himself up and staggered away from the water. Chaos was surprised when Nuva's big warm body appeared to support him on one side and Chrysta ducked under a torn wing to help support him from the other.

They walked for a ways until they came to an open clearing. Zephyr was there, he looked as bad as Chaos felt. Chrysta insisted that the demon sit and rest while she stripped the wet tack off of Nuva. He couldn't help but feel grateful that he wasn't a destria, she made them walk slowly until they cooled off. Feeling a little useless, Chaos got up, and ignoring her dirty look, gathered some wood and ignited it with demon flame. The sun had set and the breeze that sighed through the trees had a cold bite to it, especially if you were wet. The dark one settled back by the fire and watched as Chrysta quickly and efficiently spread some type of salve on the animals various cuts and slashes. He grew a little concerned when she approached him with the open container. He couldn't stop his wings from sucking around his body defensively.

"I DON'T NEED THAT!" He snarled "REMEMBER, I HEAL FAST."

The demon was disconcerted when Chrysta just flat ignored his…. MOST TERRIFYING LOOK… and tried to pry his wings open.

The woman stepped back, her head cocked in exasperation; after all, he thought smugly, he WAS stronger than her.

"Yes you heal fast, but it is silly to hurt while you are healing. All this will do is numb up the wounds for a while and prevent infection." She looked him hard in the eye, "Don't tell me you are AFRAID of a little salve."

"Harrumph," was all he said as he opened his wings, HE wasn't afraid of anything.

A half hour later after many yelps, jerks and "STOP being a baby" comments she seemed content with her work. The woman looked down at him; she had resorted to pinning him on his stomach and sitting on his back in order to treat the worst of the cuts and tears in his wings.

"See that wasn't too bad now was it?"

Chaos wondered if that was a trick question, yeah the stuff numbed things up nicely, but it stung like a son of a bitch when it first hit a wound. Chrysta grinned like a maniac and slid off, letting him back up. He slowly sat up trying to preserve as much of his dignity as he had left. A sudden frown marred his aquiline features. He realized that her hands were like ice, and she had been shivering up there on his back. He snagged her arm as she went by.

"GET UNDRESSED," he growled.

"What?" she stuttered, by the Gods, her lips were blue.

The dark lord couldn't repress a nasty smile, ahhh pay backs WERE such a bitch.

"I DIDN'T STUTTER, STRIP! OR DO YOU NEED SOME HELP?"

He popped the top button of her shirt off with one sharp claw to drive home the fact that he was perfectly willing to back up the threat.

The woman blinked in surprise as a second button followed the first.

"Stop, fine, I can do it myself." Chrysta hastily peeled the wet clothes off, shivering even worse when the breeze hit her bare skin.

"NOW, COME HERE." Chaos purred as he opened his wings. For a moment she froze. Using her indecision against her, the demon caught an arm and pulled her body against his warm skin. CRAP! She was like ice. He turned her around and sat her on his lap, then folded his soft, warm wings around them both. He was rewarded a few minutes later when her shivering stopped and sighing the woman leaned back against him of her own accord. Chaos couldn't help himself; dropping his head a little he deeply inhaled her honest, spicy scent. He jerked back when she stirred; suddenly afraid he had overstepped himself.

One finger traced over the soft skin on the leading edge of his wing.

"Chaos…. I have been wondering?" For the first time since they had met she sounded uncertain. "Are you able to…?

The demon, caught flat footed, answered her with brutal honesty.

"YES…I CAN HAVE SEX WITH A HUMAN, BUT IT IS SOMETHING THEY WOULD NOT SURVIVE!

The demon waited for her to pull away at the hard edge in his voice.

That finger stopped its gentle tracing and Chrysta arched her head back to look up at him.

"That must really suck… for you."

Her face was filled with sadness.

It was his turn to blink, he could not remember a time when a human had looked at him with anything but fear or hate. And it had been even longer since he had held a caring body close to his, or been touched by hands that were gentle and kind, instead of trying to maim or kill.

Chaos smiled, a strange thing that his face wasn't use to.

"IT IS NOT TOO TERRIBLE. IF VALENTINE WOULD STOP BEING A PRUDE, I AM SURE I COULD FIND SOME RELEASE IN HIM. AFTER ALL, I FEEL WHAT HE FEELS."

The demon closed his golden eyes enjoying the feel of her warm body pressed against his. "WHAT I MISS MOST IS THIS, THE TOUCH OF ANOTHER GIVEN IN LOVE, NOT VIOLENCE, THE SMELL AND TASTE OF A FEMALE THAT IS NOT TAINTED BY FEAR AND HATE. THE FACT THAT I KNOW ONE BEING ON THIS GODS FORSAKEN WORLD LIKES ME FOR ME. IT IS…ENOUGH."

Chaos opened his wings a little,

"SPEAKING OF VALENTINE, I REALLY DO NEED TO…."

Chrysta turned in his arms, and placed her hands against his chest. Then slid them up around his neck until she was kneeling between his legs, her face close to his.

"Yes... I just want you to know this. I find that I really like Vincent, and I also really like you. Each of you are incredible and fascinating beings. IF we humans…"

She brushed his lips with a light kiss… "…decide to enjoy each others bodies, be very aware that while we do, I will also be making love to YOU."

Chrysta stepped out of his arms and before he began his transformation, Chaos indulged himself in watching the firelight play across her naked skin as she added more fuel to the fire.


	21. Chapter 21

Sorry for the delay, I am still working on getting this up before Christmas. I have been working on a couple of art projects. This is a not for profit fan fiction. I make no money from it. Square Enix holds all rights to the FFVII world and its characters. I am just playing with them for a while. I DO own the rights to the original parts of this story line and to my original characters. Please do not use without my permission.

To Race The Wild Wind CH. 21

Vincent's awareness came slowly to him this time. Two transformations in a day were a lot to ask of his body, modified or not. He remembered the harrowing race to the river and the terrible realization that they weren't going to win it. A desperate need to know that everyone was still alive and unharmed had him dragging himself into a sitting position before his body was ready. The ex-Turk realized this was a serious mistake when all of his muscles seized up, and he rolled back onto the ground, his entire being caught in seizure like spasm. He couldn't stop the gasp of pain that pushed itself past tightly clenched teeth.

The gunman wasn't able to hear anything, or see anything, so caught up was he in the struggle to get his body unlocked enough to draw the next breath. He did feel the strong hands that rolled him up against a large warm body that was vibrating strongly. The subliminal rumble of Nuva's sweet, deep croon penetrated the haze of pain, and then slowly dissipated it. Vincent realized, as his muscles unclenched enough for him to suck in lungful after lungful of the sweet night air, that he had been propped against the resting mare. She was lying down with her body partially curved around him. The deep rumble gradually quieted and as it did the pain returned, but at a level that he was able to control.

Movement near him had his eyes snapping open and caused him to reach instinctively for Cerberus. Chrysta materialized out of the darkness and the ex-Turk managed to stop himself before he triggered another spasm. It only took him a moment to figure out that reaching for the gun was a wasted effort anyways, as it wasn't on his hip. For that matter neither were his pants.

"It seems to be becoming a habit to wake up naked when you are around."

Valentine was a little surprised by how weak and hoarse his voice was. Chrysta's worried face relaxed into a smile but her green eyes were dark with concern as she untwisted the blanket he had managed to tangle himself up in and tucked it back around his suddenly chilled and aching body.

"Crap Valentine, don't scare me like that!" She sounded a little shaken. "Chaos wasn't kidding when he said these changes were hard on you."

The woman very carefully lowered herself down until she was sitting with her back against Nuva next to him. Vincent realized that the blanket she was wrapped in was her only attire.

He couldn't help himself.

"Where are your clothes?"

Yes it was a stupid question, but he was tired, his brain felt like mush and his body felt like it had been trampled by a team of Chrysta's drafters, he believed he was entitled to ask a stupid question or two.

The woman's eyes flicked sideways, then closed as she tilted her head back, resting it on the warm cream's hide.

"Chaos MADE me take them off."

"WHAT?"

Vincent couldn't stop the reflexive jerk of his body as his head snapped around in shock. As everything locked up again in pain, the thought that was foremost in his mind was …ask a stupid question…!

Chrysta swore as she flew to her feet and disappeared into the dark again. This spasm wasn't as bad as the one before and by the time she returned he had himself propped back up, breathing hard through clenched teeth.

The woman knelt next to him and held a cup of steaming liquid to his lips.

"Here, drink some of this."

The ex-Turk took a sip and at the look on his face his companion sternly warned him.

"Don't you DARE spit that out! I have had my fill of sitting on stubborn males tonight because they don't know what is good for them. You WILL swallow that and drink some more."

As if the grim look she gave him wasn't enough, Nuva rumbled in support of her trainer and curving her ridged head around, she gave the gunman an evil look of her own. Vincent wisely swallowed the bitter drink. When he had managed to down about half of the cup, Chrysta relented and settled back next to him. He watched in fascination as she drank the rest of the nasty stuff in one go and couldn't hide his satisfaction when she shuddered as she set the cup down.

Those lovely eyes met his gaze and Chrysta shrugged, a slight smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

"Hey I never said it tasted good, just that it was GOOD for what ails you."

"What's in it?"

The ex-Turk was curious because he could already feel the pain releasing its razor edged grip on his overtaxed body.

"DREAMLEAF," Chaos's deep voice not only held a note of concern, but also one of relief "AND ALTHOUGH THIS IS NOT THE SAFEST WAY TO ADMINISTER IT, I FOR ONE, WOULD RATHER TAKE THE RISK THAN DEAL WITH ANYMORE PHYSICAL PAIN TONIGHT!"

Chrysta snorted, and in response to Vincent's raised eyebrow she added.

"Chaos {and you} took one hell of a beating opening a path for us to the river. Add a frigid, almost drowning on top of that and I am pretty sure that without the dreamleaf, even with your healing abilities, neither one of you would feel like getting up in the morning."

Nuva chortled her agreement, and then settled her nose back into the grass with a sigh.

Chrysta stretched her bad leg and a slight grimace tightened her lips.

"I even gave some to Zephyr; he is going to be very stiff tomorrow."

Vincent realized he hadn't seen the big black since he regained awareness, and he sat up straight to look around for him. He was pleasantly surprised when the movement was almost pain free. He still could not see Zephyr.

"I wouldn't be too worried about him, he felt well enough that he is taking a trip around the camp to make sure nothing nasty sneaks up on us, I would imagine he is also looking for little sleeping tidbits to snack on. Speaking of which…" Chrysta shifted next to him, and slowly climbed to her feet. "Are you hungry?"

As Vincent watched her limp heavily to the banked fire he felt Chaos stir uneasily in the back of his mind.

"What's wrong?" he quietly asked the demon.

Chaos answered with his own question, so softly that his host almost couldn't hear him.

"ARE YOU FEELING ANY PAIN?"

It took a moment for the point that the demon was trying to make to sink in.

"How long does it take to build up a resistance to dreamleaf?"

Vincent knew nothing of the drug but trusted in Chaos's knowledge.

The demon kept his reply at an almost subliminal level.

"I AM NOT SURE, A VERY LONG TIME, I THINK."

They both watched in silence as the woman made her way back and carefully sat down. She had a bag that Grant had stuffed with, bread, cheese, apples and little spicy meat pies. He had also packed a small bottle of red wine that Chrysta regretfully set aside.

"We will have to save that until tomorrow. Drinking alcohol and dreamleaf together would be a big mistake."

Chaos made an odd choking sound. The woman looked up from cutting the bread and apples, and Vincent's expression must have caught her attention because she set her knife down and asked,

"What?"

"HOW LONG HAVE YOU BEEN TAKING DREAMLEAF?"

The demon saved Vincent from being the one to ask.

Chrysta's eyes narrowed a little but she answered him

"Six years, every day, twice a day except for one week out of every eight, to clear my system."

"THAT'S DANGEROUS!"

The demon made no attempt hide his shocked reaction.

"I have no choice and you do NOT want to be having this conversation with me."

The woman's voice had taken on an icy edge that Vincent had not heard before.

Chaos was practically sputtering,

"SOMEONE NEEDS TO HAVE IT WITH YOU!"

Something shifted in those eyes and Vincent had a sudden bad feeling about all of this.

"Shut up, Chaos."

"I WILL NOT SHUT UP; TAKING IT LIKE THAT CAN BE LETHAL!"

The demon evidently wasn't paying close attention to Chrysta's face because if he had, he would have taken Vincent's advice. The gunman saw his companion's face take on an unearthly stillness and her eyes were like dead flat ice. He felt SOMETHING that had been placed between her mind and his crumble and he felt Nuva jerk in reaction. Vincent had a split second to think "Oh Shit" and a knife of ice and flame buried itself just left of and below his left nipple. It drove deep, through his ribs then down across his stomach and groin. A tendril of flame snaked across his right hip then all the way down his leg. The muscles all along the lethal slash pulled back, jumping and twisting as if trying to remove themselves from the unbearable pain's vicinity. For the third time that night Vincent found himself in the grip of uncontrollable muscle spasms. For a moment he had the fear that somehow he was back in Hojo's clutches reliving one of his worst experiments. Then it just STOPPED. All the man could do was lay there and gasp, he could hear Chaos savagely cursing as if from a great distance. Chrysta finally stirred and gently helped him to sit back up.

The woman held his crimson eyes captive with her own; they still had that strange, dead ice look to them.

"Not pleasant is it."

The green started to leak back in as she sat back and they were almost back to normal when Chrysta looked away with a sigh and went back to slicing bread and apples.

"When you can tell me how to live with that every moment of every day, I will gladly give up the dreamleaf."

Vincent couldn't help himself.

"Gods… Chaos when I say shut up, SHUT UP!"


	22. Chapter 22

This is a not for profit fan fiction. I make no money from it. Square Enix holds all rights to the FFVII world and its characters. I am just playing with them for a while. I DO own the rights to the original parts of this story line and to my original characters. Please do not use without my permission.

To Race the Wild Wind CH. 22

The gunman was content to just sit and watch as Chrysta finished preparing their simple meal. His nerves were still jumping from the complete overload that the woman had subjected them to. Nuva shifted behind him, and humming, she softly nuzzled his shoulder in sympathy. Chrysta handed him his portion, and the gunman realized that her hands were shaking. The woman leaned back against the cream, closing her eyes and Nuva's hum shifted to that deep, soothing croon. He was startled when Zephyr's rumbling voice joined in and he realized that the big black had returned to the camp. The small, tense lines of pain around the woman's mouth and eyes gradually smoothed out and disappeared.

Vincent felt Chaos ease foreword a little in his mind,

"CHRYSTA, YOU REALLY NEED TO EAT BEFORE YOU SLEEP."

Vincent winced as the woman's face twitched, but he realized he was as bad as the demon when he joined in.

"Yes… that would probably be a very good idea."

Chrysta's eyelids opened enough that they could see that they were a kaleidoscope mix of blue, green and gold, both males released the collective breath they had been holding unconsciously when she grinned,

"Isn't that a little like the pot calling the kettle black?"

"Hnnn," the ex-Turk picked up one of the meat pies as a slight smile twisted his mouth. "Yes, but this pot is planning on eating."

The destria's deep croon stopped and it was Chrysta's turn to get the full impact of Nuva's evil eye. She hastily pulled herself away from the mare's warm side and picked up a slice of apple and some cheese to nibble on.

Surprisingly, between the two of them, they managed to finish what she had prepared, although a meat pie and a couple of apples did find their way into Nuva's greedy mouth.

As Vincent gathered up and put away the implements from their meal, Chrysta made her way back over to put more wood on the dying fire. When she returned, she had put her shirt back on and had her blanket draped over her shoulders. The long, loose shirt swayed with her movements, revealing and concealing tantalizing bits of her firm anatomy.

"These are dry," she handed him his warm shirt, "but we will have to wait a while longer on the pants."

The man had straightened out the blanket that Chrysta had initially spread on the ground under them, and she settled back on to it. He was relieved to see that the grace had returned to her movements. Vincent stood, and knowing it was silly, as she had seen him undressed several times already, he turned his back to her as he slipped into his shirt. The ex-Turk didn't realize that although this preserved a little of his dignity, it gave the woman a long uninterrupted view of his strong well muscled back, truly impressive behind and lovely pale, porcelain like skin. When he turned back around, modestly re-covered by his blanket, she had leaned back and was watching him with stormy, half lidded eyes. As his crimson eyes caught hers when he sat back down, a light tinge of pink touched her cheeks and she looked away.

They both rested against their living back rest in companionable silence.

Chrysta, when she spoke, jerked Vincent out of a light doze.

"I am VERY, VERY careful."

The gunman was confused for a moment, had she been talking to him while he was drifting?

"I am sorry?"

His companion shifted a little and her eyes flicked sideways to look at him.

"I am very careful when I figure my dosages on the dreamleaf."

Vincent turned his body so he could see her face. Her mouth gave a wry twist.

"I …apologize… for subjecting you to…." She shrugged, "I tend to get a little short tempered when I am….tired."

The gunman quietly studied her face until she looked away from him in shame. He reached over and using the tip of one claw under her chin; he turned her face back where he could see it.

"You have nothing to apologize for, my…companion… can be overbearing…at times."

He felt the demon lord twitch indignantly in response to that, but Chaos wisely held his tongue. "And you certainly made your point, quite clearly."

Green eyes darkened, then blinked, and she reached up to run her fingers along his golden claw.

"For one who has been so abused by life, you have a remarkably forgiving nature, Vincent Valentine."

Okay, Chaos just couldn't stand it,

"EXCEPT WHEN IT COMES TO FORGIVING HIMSELF!"

She couldn't quite control the smile that flitted across her face, and then she looked away as the smile turned sad.

"Sometimes, Chaos, even if one CAN forgive one's… self, it brings no sweet comfort."

Her attention jerked back to the gunman's pale, beautiful face when his claw dipped and gently traced the path of her scar through the soft material of her shirt. Chrysta froze, mesmerized by the swirling blood red, and rich gold of his eyes.

The sensitive circuitry in Vincent's bio-mechanical hand easily picked up the shift in her steady heart rate as the tip of the gleaming talon slipped across her stomach to travel where the old wound sliced across her groin and curled around her hip. In passing, the cold metal left the material and traveled on to bare, soft, warm skin. Its sensitive tip also picked up the slight shudder that traveled over her. Spreading that hand wide, Valentine braced his weight on the ground next to her hip and rotated himself until he was facing her, unintentionally trapping the woman between himself and the solid bulk of the destria behind. They were close enough that her heat carried her warm spicy smell up to him like a rich, sweet perfume. As his head dipped to taste those slightly parted lips, a flash of another face, in another time flashed behind his eyes. A sharp stab of guilt stopped him.

"NO, VALENTINE….. IT IS WELL PAST TIME YOU MOVED ON…."

Chaos' voice was oddly gentle and the demon shifted forward a little.

The image faded, and Chrysta's tanned, strong face was all he saw. Pinpoints of blue and gold flashed in and out of the green of her wide eyes as she patiently waited for him to work through his confused thoughts. They blazed like brilliant jewels before they closed, as decision made, he captured her mouth with his.

"YESSS…."

Chaos rumbled, his usually rough voice soft and deep. It should have been a distraction but instead, it was as if the meld between the demon and the man strengthened and instead of being two individuals they became the two halves of one.

There was no physical transformation, but Chrysta's eyes flicked open as the shadow of phantom wings arced up, blocking the dim light of the fire. She drew back slightly and Vincent slid his fully human hand under her soft shirt and slipping his arm around her, he stroked up her spine. The lean, strong fingers were his, but when he curved them at the sensitive spot between the woman's shoulder blades, she arched forward with a smothered hiss at the feel of sharp talons carefully sliding along her skin. Turning that hand, those same ghostly talons sliced through the material covering her warm soft body. The cloth fluttered to the ground, exposing shimmering skin to the night air. Chrysta rose up, her body pressed tightly against his chest, as gentle arms of steel slid around his neck and her long fingers slipped into his raven hair. Her mouth opened allowing Vincent's tongue entry, and teeth that had elongated, nipped gently at tender tongue and lips. With a soft moan, Chrysta's hands were under his shirt, stroking along his stomach, a tremor ran through Valentine as the hard muscles there tightened and twisted at the wonderful sensations her cool fingers created. The groan that escaped his lips was almost harmonic, a blending of two voices. Moving up, those same amazing hands impatiently removed his shirt, which, all of a sudden, was very much in the way.

With a sudden grin against his lips, Chrysta twisted her body hard and Vincent found himself on his back with her straddling his hips. Chaos tensed in an instinctive reaction to being in a defenseless position. Vincent tempered the demon's response with the sure knowledge that sometimes being on your back wasn't necessarily a bad thing. Sliding her hands along his arms until they were palm to palm, the woman started at his mouth, and nibbling, sucking, licking, and, oh my GODS!, even biting, she worked her way over every inch of Vincent's smooth pale skin that she could comfortably reach. She wiggled her seat around when she felt his sudden and intense approval of the stimulation, and this brought the demon part of the mix a wonderful new appreciation for being in this particular position.

Shadow wings flaring in long forgotten pleasure arched Vincent up, and he claimed those now hot hands, pulling Chrysta down against his body at the same time. From there it was easy to roll, pinning her underneath him with the full length and strength of his lithe form. Between long, slender, well trained fingers, golden claws, and phantom talons, he stoked and played her passion with a knowledge as old as time. By the time he was positioned to take what was feely offered, her eyes were glowing like hot young stars and when the woman's body bowed up, pushing herself onto him, it was with something that sounded suspiciously like a growl that was eerily blended with deep rumbles that emanated from both of her destria.

Chaos was nothing but endless lustful passion but Vincent had taken his long, tortuous years and honed a will of iron. Together they brought their lover up to the trembling brink over and over but did not let her ride over the edge. On the last climb, Vincent stopped at the edge and shifted back. Chrysta followed him, her hips lifting with a soft moan,

"Please…. Vincent!"

Crimson flared to gold and a dangerous smile shifted his perfect, lovely features. As Valentine thrust forward in one long hard stroke, Chaos buried those sharp, unnaturally elongated fangs in the juncture of her shoulder and neck. Hot smoky, spicy blood flooded into his mouth as the woman bowed up hard against him. She muffled her physical scream by sinking her teeth into his shoulder but her mind reached out and locked Vincent/Chaos into her link. Bound together by more than a physical connection they rode over that edge and soared on the wild wind of a savage pleasure that roared through their combined bodies and minds.

When that storm was finished with them, it gently eased them back into the physical world like feathers floating down on soft breath of a breeze. Vincent found himself with his body so totally entwined with hers that it was hard to tell where one left off and the other began. He carefully shifted his body to the side, knowing that she would eventually be in pain with his full weight resting on her. Chrysta hummed softly under her breath and green eyes opened slightly to see where he was going. They came to full awareness when she realized that he was planning to get up and she rewrapped her leg around his, trapping him.

He relaxed and with his thumb, wiped a little of his blood off of her lips.

"I will need to sleep tonight and don't want to end up on my stomach, with your knee's in my back again."

She pushed herself up on one elbow, and her face was serious.

"I can pretty much guarantee that with the dreamleaf in your system, you won't have nightmares tonight. Stay here with me, there is nothing on this side of the river that can sneak up on us and if there was, it would have to deal with two destria. AND… if I get any inclination that you are having a night terror, I will go to the other side of the camp and have NUVA wake you up."

Nuva snorted and her head shot around to give the woman an intensely dirty look.

Vincent just looked at this incredible woman for a long moment then he lowered himself back down and gathered her up with her back spooned against him. She reached out to snag a blanket and they curled up together under it. Just as they were both slipping into a dreamless sleep, the feeling of soft phantom wings curved over and around, cocooning them in a feeling of protective warmth.


	23. Chapter 23

I must apologize for not getting this up yesterday...but I quite literally lost chapter 23. No really, when I clicked on my file marked chapter 23...chapter 24 popped up...talk about panic. NOW I do have hard copy of this but I am not sure where it is and really did not want to have to re-type the whole darned chapter. LUCKILY a friend who put this story into book form for me had it still in digital form. I practically kissed her feet when she brought it over on a flash drive this morning!This is a not for profit fan fiction. I make no money from it. Square Enix holds all rights to the FFVII world and its characters. I am just playing with them for a while. I DO own the rights to the original parts of this story line and to my original characters. Please do not use without my permission

chapter 23

There were still a few stars gleaming in the early morning sky when a small sound jerked Vincent out of a sound sleep. He was squeezed between Chrysta, who somehow had managed to steal most of the blanket, and what felt like a solid wall. That wall was the reason he didn't feel the morning chill. Zephyr had lain down against him and his broad black back radiated heat better than any fire. Nuva was nowhere to be seen, but a small panicked squeal and thrashing rustle outside of the camp indicated that she was prowling nearby looking for sleeping "tidbits." That was the sound that had intruded on his sleep.

Slipping from between his two bed partners, (now that was an odd thought, wasn't it?) the gunman found his discarded shirt. Slipping it on, the chill didn't really bother him, but the thought of parading around the campsite totally naked did, he made his way over to the dead fire. Their pants were as dry as they were going to get with the heavy morning dew, and as he put his on, he realized that Cerberus had to have gotten wet the night before. The unique gun was resting, wrapped in a piece of soft cloth, on a large flat rock. Beside it, the holster hung on a branch far enough from the fire that the heat wouldn't damage the soft leather. The rounds that he had last loaded into the gun had been removed and were wrapped in another piece of cloth and tucked back behind the rock. It only took a moment to dig his waterproofed kit out of his saddle bags and replace the wetted ammo in the holster with dry rounds.

He got the fire re-started and knowing there was NO way that Chrysta had left town without coffee, he made a quick search of the other bags. Sure enough, he found the precious black beans tucked in next to a small bag of dreamleaf, both wrapped so thoroughly there was no way for them to get wet. After getting the pot of coffee started, he sat beside the fire and broke the revolver down. As his talented hands went through the very familiar process of cleaning and oiling the big gun, he felt Chaos stir.

"UMM, VALENTINE . . . YOU MIGHT WANT TO HEAT SOME WATER."

Vincent's hands didn't slow in what he was doing as he absent mindedly answered. "I have coffee on already, Chaos."

"WELL . . . YES . . . I IMAGINE COFFEE WILL BE FINE, BUT . . ."

The demon was interrupted by a muffled yelp from the blanket's vicinity. This was followed by . . .

"Son of a BITCH!" . . . a soft groan . . . then a softly muttered, "I KNOW better than to ride bareback."

Zephyr snorted, and scrambled to his feet. With a cautious look back at the crumbled ball of blanket, he casually started to amble (sneak) away. The blanket moved slightly and the woman hissed out. "Nuva, you are damned lucky I can't get up or I would be kicking your ass!"

The mare had appeared back in camp casually chewing SOMETHING. But when she heard Chrysta, her jaws stopped moving and she slunk over and joined Zephyr in trying to hide behind Vincent. Zephyr didn't help things when he snorted derisively and bumped the gunman with his nose.

"ZEPHYR!" The woman's head came popping out of the blanket as she tried to straighten out.

"What?" Valentine slapped at the black muzzle to get it out of his way while he put the complex handgun back together.

There was a choked sound of laughter mixed with a small moan and Chrysta curled back up under the blanket. "I was just informed that HE wasn't the only thing that I rode bareback."

Vincent froze for a moment and heard Chaos murmur. "HE DOES HAVE A POINT. WE . . . DIDN'T USE THE SADDLES."

The vivid vision of what COULD be done with saddles that the demon lord played through the ex-Turks mind WAS depraved and . . . Oh My Gods, Mother Gia help him . . . Interesting!

The blanket ball trembled and the woman softly groaned, "Oh GODS! Somebody shoot me now!"

With a long suffering sigh, the gunman went back to the saddle bags and pulled out the small bag of dreamleaf, and the pot it was tucked into. He filled the pot with water and set it on the fire to heat. The ex-Turk then strode over to the blanket and without warning, scooped Chrysta up in it. He instantly felt guilty when he felt her whole body jerk and her breath hissed out in a silent curse.

"Sorry," he whispered in her ear and taking her back to the fire Vincent settled her as gently as he could against the same flat rock he had found Cerberus on. Chrysta leaned back against it, her eyes tight shut in a face that was pale with pain. She did manage a smile when he brought her a hot cup of coffee. The woman sipped at it as she watched the gunman strap the now holstered Cerberus onto his lean hips.

When the small pot started boiling, Vincent snagged her almost empty coffee cup, but here he hesitated, as he really had no clue as how to prepare the dangerous drug.

Chaos slipped forwards a little in his mind. "LET ME DO THIS. IT ISN'T SOMETHING YOU WANT TO PLAY WITH." The demon lord's voice dropped to what he considered a whisper. "YOU NEED TO ASK HER WHAT SHE WEIGHS."

"Hnn . . . I . . . don't . . . think . . . so," the gunman turned this responsibility totally over to the demon. "I am NOT that stupid."

"FINE . . ." Chaos actually sounded . . . GRUMPY. That was a first. "CHRYSTA, PLEASE TELL ME YOUR EXACT WEIGHT?"

Vincent snuck a look sideways and caught the quick look of apprehension that flitted across her quiet face. The gunman couldn't blame her, he would think twice about letting another person mix up a dose of ANYTHING for himself, let alone something that could be lethal if it was mixed wrong. Chrysta winced as she tried to shift into a more comfortable position and he could see the moment she resigned herself to trusting in the demon's knowledge.

"One hundred and forty eight pounds give or take an ounce or two."

His companion pulled her blanket a little closer and managed to look even more miserable.

"VALENTINE, I NEED THE USE OF YOUR HANDS."

Vincent had to ruthlessly quell the instinct that made him automatically fight the demons request, but after a brief struggle with himself he found he was able to step back in his mind and watch with detached interest as Chaos poured a small amount of the herb into his bio-mechanical hand. The gunman realized that the demon was using the incredibly sensitive circuitry in it as a scale.

"ARE YOU CLOSER TO THE MINIMUM DOSE OR THE MAX FOR YOUR PHYSIOLOGY?"

Vincent felt his eyebrows arch up, he silently applauded the sneaky way Chaos was finding out just exactly how much resistance the woman had built up to the powerful pain killer.

Chrysta leaned her head back with a sigh. "I am two grams off of the maximum dose."

Vincent felt the demon's soft rumble of displeasure as he added a few more leaves to the small amount nestled in his palm. Dropping the dry leaves into a slotted metal ball that looked remarkably like the one that Cid used to make his ever present tea, Chaos placed it into the cup and poured hot water over it. The dark lord was just as precise in the time he allowed the leaves to steep as he had been in measuring out the dose. When Chaos withdrew the ball he very carefully scrutinized the steaming liquid.

Vincent had to ask. "What are you doing now?"

Using the tip of one claw, the demon flicked a minute piece of leaf that had escaped the tea ball, out of the cup.

"YOU SHOULD . . . NEVER . . . INGEST THE ACTUAL LEAF." He said this as he relinquished control back over to the gunman.

Vincent handed her the cup and had to suppress a shudder, as she blew on the drink to cool it, then, sipped it in careful mouthfuls. The herb had tasted as bad as it smelled and the gunman determined that he would rather have a Mako treatment then ever drink another drop of the stuff.

By the time the tonic kicked in and Chrysta managed to get things unlocked enough to get up and gather up her clothes, Valentine had the rest of the camp packed into their saddle bags. The sound of a throat being cleared snapped his attention back to his companion. She stood casually; dressed in her pants, tight fitting riding boots and a pretty, soft pink . . .

"BRASSIERE," Chaos interjected helpfully.

Vincent flinched as she held up her shirt. With the two buttons that Chaos had snipped off and the long slices in the back, it really couldn't be called a shirt anymore. Chrysta grinned and thanked him when he did the gentlemanly thing and removing his black shirt he draped it over her shoulders.

"IT'S A GOOD THING YOU DON'T SUNBURN." Chaos was snickering.

"Chaos…" Vincent was interrupted.

"YEAH, YEAH . . . I KNOW . . . SHUT UP!"


	24. Chapter 24

This is a not for profit fan fiction. I make no money from it. Square Enix holds all rights to the FFVII world and its characters. I am just playing with them for a while. I DO own the rights to the original parts of this story line and to my original characters. Please do not use without my permission

To Race the Wild Wind CH. 24

Late morning had them breaking out of the forest and climbing a rough path to the top of a narrow ridge line. It had taken Chrysta very little time to get Zephyr and Nuva tacked up and ready to move out with Vincent helping where he could. The gunman had actually picked up enough pointers from the competent woman, that if the need arose, he felt he could saddle a WILLING destria on his own. They had started out at an easy walk, as Chrysta's prediction that Zephyr would be stiff was proven accurate. Both animals though, seemed to have no lingering damage and they were now moving along at fast canter.

As they reached the top, Chrysta reined Zephyr in and walked him to where she could overlook the opposite valley. As Nuva came up along side the black, Vincent took in a scene that he did not know still existed on this tired, old world. The land opened up at the base of the ridge in a wide, shallow, oval bowl. From one side to the other it was an even mix of old hardwoods and open meadows. Small, shining streams intertwined through it and there was even a small lake at the far end. Chrysta curled her good leg around her saddle horn and just sat and looked with envy in her eyes.

"Don Diego owns this, ten thousand acres of untouched wild land." Her lip curled a little. "He calls it an "investment". I call it paradise." The woman gave a soft sigh and turned Zephyr back to the path. Vincent heard her mutter softly, "I wish I had that and Diego had a feather up his ass!"

"What?"

Chaos answered the gunman's confused question.

"SHE MEANS, THAT WAY, THEY WOULD BOTH BE TICKLED."

"Ohhh..."

The ex-Turk wasn't sure how to address a statement like that so he chose silence as the wisest course of action. As the path started to dip back down, it split into three routes. One dropped into the lovely valley, one followed a winding, switch backed route until it paralleled the river into a dark, narrow canyon and the other continued along the ridge. Chrysta stopped again, seemed to hesitate than took the path along the ridge. At the gunman's questioning look she explained.

"The lower path is the shorter route, BUT, that canyon is called "Splatter Canyon" for a reason. I would have to be pretty desperate to go that way and winning a race, just wouldn't be worth the risk."

They rode on in silence. Vincent wondered if the woman was having second thoughts about their intimacy the night before. Even for her, she was being unusually quiet. The gunslinger was having a few problems with it himself, as every time he tried to analyze the how's and whys of the situation, it stirred up such an unsettling brew of emotions that his mind kept shying away from it.

Chaos picked up on the guilt and fear that was swirled generously in the mix and finally intervened.

"WHAT GIVES VALENTINE?"

His gravelly voice was pitched low to keep the conversation private. The ex-Turk realized by the tensing in the other rider's shoulders that she was probably picking up on some of his emotional storm. He snarled softly to himself as he slowed Nuva, putting a little distance between them. The woman's sensitivity to emotion caused a whole other set of problems in a relationship. With his other "friends" he could hide his face behind the collar of his cloak, and his emotions behind a cold mask. With Chrysta, hiding was a little more "complicated".

The gunman answered the demon with hesitancy.

"Chaos, we are quite possibly going to outlive every person on the planet. I don't think I can handle the loss of every soul that I allow myself to get close to. It would be much easier to just not care!"

The demon seemed to think hard before he answered.

"I BELIEVE THIS IS A DILEMA THAT ALL BEINGS MUST EVENTUALLY FIND THE ANSWER TO, MORTAL OR IMMORTAL."

"It's something a NORMAL person would likely deal with a few times in their lives, but… Chaos… I don't think I can face that kind of loss time and time again as the years… no eons… pass by."

The demon flinched at the desolation in the humans mind. He was all to familiar with the pain of loosing EVERYTHING that one held dear. His sigh, was a soft rumble in Vincent's mind.

"THIS IS SOMETHING…YOU… WILL HAVE TO WORK OUT FOR YOURSELF. I WILL SAY THIS, VINCENT. ETERNITY IS A TERRIBLE LONG TIME TO BE ALONE."

Nuva slowed even more, and Chrysta was so preoccupied she didn't seem to notice.

An odd itch developed right behind Vincent's eyes As he absent mindedly reached up to rub his forehead, he was reminded of how he had seen Chrysta do that same thing, many times.

A soft, sweet voice rumbled through him. It was so utterly different from the other voices that usually played in his head that he looked around for another person.

"_DARKFIRE_…."

The words hissing through his mind echoed with age and had a definitely feminine flavor to them.

_"THISSS ISS WHAT YOUR LIFESSSSTREAM LOOKSSS LIKE NOW."_ A vision of velvet darkness was inserted behind his eyes. A long chain of tarnished silver braided with one of ebony black wove and spun through the emptiness. On one end was a black stone that absorbed the light so completely it looked like nothing more than an embodied shadow.

Nuva stopped and a sky blue eye gleamed as she looked back at him.

_"THISS ISSS WHAT IT COULD BE."_

Again there was that velvet black but this time the silver chain flowed gleaming and bright in the darkness. The ebony was still braided into it but the two together seemed a complete whole. The black stone still anchored the end, but it had been faceted and polished until it flashed with an unusual black and red flame. Interspaced along the chain where six extraordinary gems. One glowed lovely blue, the color of a summer sky, it was as deep and steady as Vincent knew the strength that ran in Cloud was. Tifa's,( and somehow he just KNEW that each jewel represented one of the people that he tried to keep away from his heart) was a velvet red, like the sun shining through a glass of the rich burgundy wine he loved. Yuffie's, surprisingly, was a steady glimmering topaz, a gold that captured the true honesty that she tried so desperately to hide. Nanaki's was the deep green of an ancient forest glen. Cid's was a smooth gleaming silver stone that seemed to swirl with the mercurial uncertain fire, of quicksilver. Barrett's was like the man himself, a piece of strong granite the color of steel, streaked through with veins of true gold and the sharp spark of crystal.

"_YESSS…..YOUR STREAM WILL FLOW TO ETERNITY BUT WHAT A WONDERFUL THING OF BEAUTY IT COULD BE, HMMMMM ?"_

Vincent closed his eyes so that he could capture the vision of that lovely chain forever in his mind.

He realized there was a jewel missing. And he asked curiously,

"What does Chrysta's essence look like?"

The sweet voice chuckled and answered slyly.

_"AHHH, THAT ISSSS SSOMETHING THAT… YOU… SHALL JUST HAVE TO FIND OUT ON YOUR OWN NOW, ISSSN'T IT? DARKFIRE….. ONE LIFESSSTREAM ISSS EASY, IT SPINS OUT FOREVER EMPTY AND DARK. THE OTHER INCLUDESSS PAIN AND SSACRIFICE BUT...OHH... THE BEAUTY YOU SHALL ACHIEVE! IT ISSS YOUR DECISION, BELOVED. WHICH FUTURE WILL YOU CHOOSSE?" _

Slowly, the exquisite vision darkened and was replaced by the day's ordinary sunshine. Vincent reached forwards and ran his fingers through the cream's silky mane.

He had no true way to thank the elegant mare.

The mare's blue eye winked at him and the itch faded. Nuva trotted forwards again, neck arched and tail flagged. She was very clearly quite pleased with herself.

They caught up with their companions as Chrysta started to turn down an overgrown path and catching herself, doubled back to the main one. She looked around with a slightly bewildered look on her face that cleared, as Nuva came along side the big black.

"There you are," she flashed a quick smile at him. "I was worried we had lost you there for a moment."

As their companion pushed Zephyr back up into a canter, she didn't hear Chaos murmur,

"THAT'S FUNNY, I WAS WORRIED ABOUT THE SAME THING."

Chrysta stopped a couple of times to check her maps and it soon became clear to the ex-Turk that she was developing a route that shaved distance while keeping to relatively open terrain. She explained that although Inferno had incredible speed, his agility wasn't the strongest in the field. The rider had to choose her course keeping that in mind. Valentine traced a finger along their path and found the small trail she had almost turned down.

"Where does this lead?" he asked.

Seemingly startled by the question, Chrysta slashed him a quick look and her open face became guarded. The woman folded the map and as she turned Zephyr back to lope along the path she had chosen, she answered in a clipped tone.

"To Forest's grave."

It took until mid afternoon to make it back to the edge of town. Vincent tried very hard to ignore the many contemplative looks they seemed to attract as they rode down the main street. He could not see the attractive contrast of the tall woman dressed in black, mounted on the black, golden eyed Zephyr, and his own slender, dark haired, bare-shouldered, pale beauty mounted on the elegant cream.

As they turned into the now familiar courtyard, Chrysta called Andrew over to them. She had dismounted and was already removing the tired animal's tack.

"I need you to go find the race council and let them know there is a large pack of Rapines hunting along the lower river route. Tell them there are at least twenty left."

Vincent saw the young man take in the long cuts on Zephyr and Nuva, Cerberus resting in its holster on his hip and the fact that Chrysta was wearing his shirt, in one quick glance. Then the young man took to his heels, heading down the alley and out to the street.

The two riders made short work of getting the black and cream cared for and settled into their paddocks. Chrysta continued to be more subdued than the gunman had seen her be, since he had arrived in town. As they passed the General, he made an odd, harsh sound and when Vincent looked at him he bared his fangs in what looked a lot like a knowing, nasty smile. Chrysta hesitated at the sound and then, without looking at the beast, she continued on into the Inn. The gunman lagged back a little, and caught the worried expression on Grant's face as she slipped up the stairs without stopping to see him. Vincent made a point of stopping.

The gunman's crimson eyes studied the older man's face and Grant looked away with a barely concealed sigh. Vincent caught the barman's wrist with his human hand.

"What am I missing?"

He did not release the man when he tried to pull away.

Grant looked up the stairs for a moment,

"I would appreciate it if you could make sure Chrysta comes downstairs for dinner tonight. I would rather she not be alone at all."

Vincent let the big man go.

Would you mind telling me why?"

Grant smiled sadly at him.

"I kind of like to keep an eye on her on the anniversary of Forest's death. She doesn't deal with it well at all."

That evening, Vincent tried every trick in the book to convince Chrysta to go down to the common room. She resisted to the point that finally in exasperation, he snatched her up, threw her over his shoulder and headed down the stairs. Half way down she hissed "STOP!" And complying reluctantly with his earlier request, she continued down the stairs under her own power.

Grant settled them at a back table and ignoring her dirty look set a bowl of thick stew in front of her and a beer and small bottle of Anesthetic in front of The ex-Turk. He gave the younger man a stern look,

"She has to eat first. "He transferred his hard gaze to the quiet woman. "And that's ALL I am letting you have."

Her eyes flashed up in anger.

"I can always go to another bar, Grant."

"I THINK THAT WOULD BE... OVER... OUR ...VERY…DEAD... BODIES."

Chaos's deep voice was very quiet; he could be as stubborn as the best of them.

Chrysta glanced at Vincent, who leaned back, crossed his arms and nodded his agreement with the demon. He had to crush the guilt that welled up in his breast as the anger faded and left her eyes the same flat dead color the ex-Turk had seen the night before. The look she gave all three of them made it eloquently clear what she thought of them ganging up on her.

Grant's ploy worked in that Chrysta did finish her meal and her eyes had at least shifted more to green then gray when Vincent poured her a small glass of the potent blue brew. The gunman sipped his beer and watched as her eyes greened up a little more when she noticed the larger than usual crowd of out-of-towners.

Grant was pre-occupied at the bar when Chaos gave the gunman a slight conspiratorial nudge,

"THE GUY IN BLUE IS PACKING."

This got Vincent's attention.

"What?"

Chaos spoke very slowly and there was an odd note in his voice.

"I…SAID. THE GUY IN THE BLUE SHIRT IS PACKING IRON, AND THE LITTLE MAN IN THE RED SHIRT HAS A KNIFE IN HIS BOOT."

Chrysta had looked up, and she saw the strange expression that crossed the gunman's face. A small smile played around her mouth.

"If you do this, just stay the hell out of his way."

She watched as Vincent scooped up her empty bowl and his beer glass and headed toward the bar. A nudge here, a bump there and eddies of discontent whirled through the crowded room following the general path that the gunman took. He had just reached the bar when with the crash of breaking dishes, all hell broke loose.

Vincent just barely managed to step back as Grant came OVER the bar. The big man moved with a speed and grace the belied his size. As the knife came out of the "little man's" boot, Grant caught the man's wrist and twisting it, forced the knife to drop. He used the man as a shield to block a fist from another fighter and kicked that man's feet out from under him. Tossing the knife wielder into a struggling knot of drunken fighters, the older man seemed to flow through the fight. Where ever he paused and applied his fists and feet, men found themselves sleeping on the hard floor.

Vincent leaned back against the bar to watch, impressed in spite of himself. The big man reached the man with the gun at the same time he was dumb enough to draw it. Blue shirt found his hand and the gun engulfed in the big bartender's fist. Grant held him effortlessly, waggled his finger in the universal "no you don't" sign and floored the wanna-be gunslinger with a fist between the eyes. Valentine glanced Chrysta's way and saw she had not moved from her seat and was watching the big man clear his bar with an appreciative gleam in her now sparkling eyes. Noticing the gunman looking her way, the woman raised her glass of anesthetic in a silent toast.

It took Grant a total of three minutes to get the fight stopped. Those that didn't want there asses handed to them scurried out the door and those that had less intelligence were unceremoniously thrown out. It took the three of them an hour to clean up the resulting mess. Listening to Chrysta's occasional chuckle as she rehashed parts of the fight with the barman and seeing the worried lines relax around the Grant's brown eyes, made having to mop the common room floor TWICE worth it. By the time the ex-Turk finished, Chrysta had gone upstairs to soak in her bath. Grant shooed Vincent away, maintaining that he could finish the clean up himself.

Chrysta was still in her bath when he got up to the room, and the sharp smell of dreamleaf floated in the warm air. Vincent couldn't help but notice that there was a glass of red wine on the night stand by the bed and a book rested beside it. He was comfortably sprawled on the bed, sipping the wine, and working his way through the third chapter of a slow mystery when Chrysta came out of the bathroom. She did not notice that his eyes followed her over the pages of the book as she stood in front of the window and watched the General for a long moment.

"Do you want to tell me about it?"

The man kept his voice soft and unthreatening.

Chrysta didn't turn away from the window,

"What I would really like, is to not sleep alone tonight."

She turned and gave the prone gunman a hopeful look. He slid over and held the covers up, inviting her in.

* * *

Thank you to those who have taken the time to leave a comment or two...as for you others...I have sent Chaos out looking for you!


	25. Chapter 25

This is a not for profit fan fiction. I make no money from it. Square Enix holds all rights to the FFVII world and its characters. I am just playing with them for a while. I DO own the rights to the original parts of this story line and to my original characters. Please do not use without my permission

To Race the Wild Wind CH. 25

Chrysta limped over and slid in next to him. She arranged herself so that she was curled against his left side. Vincent carefully slid his gauntleted hand under her strong shoulders and shifted her closer, so that her head rested lightly on his shoulder. The ex-Turk kept his attention on the written page in front of him as Chrysta's hand slid up to rest lightly on his chest. The woman was so quiet, that at first he thought she had fallen asleep. When he glanced down, the gunman realized she was watching his face as he read in the dim light of the room, her lips twitched up at the corners a little when she realized he was looking at her.

She poked him with a stiff finger.

"I have read that one already, do ya want me to tell you who done it?"

Valentine turned the page casually,

"Only if you want to spend the next night or two out in the barn with Nuva."

He was secretly pleased when he was rewarded with a quiet chuckle.

Marking his spot in the chapter with one claw, the gunman turned a little so he could see his bedmate's face.

"Speaking of Nuva, we had a short but enlightening conversation today. She is very wise."

Chrysta's eyes widened imperceptivity,

"Well….they do say, great wisdom comes with age, and she is quite old."

"Hnnn,"

Vincent continued to look at the woman expectantly.

"How…old….is old?

The woman squirmed a little, and the fingers on his chest twisted in the soft fabric of his shirt.

"Nuva was my first mount, my father's first mount, my grandfather's first mount, and my…" she hesitated here and he could feel the fingers do a quick tapping count, "…umm, great, great….great grandfathers favorite mare."

Chaos, who had been slumbering lightly in the back of Vincent's mind {HE did not like mysteries, he MUCH preferred good old gruesome horror stories} jerked awake.

"DID I HEAR THAT RIGHT?"

Chrysta shifted away from him and sat up. She punched the pillows into a big ball so she could lean against them.

"Yes, you heard right and if you tell Nuva I am the one who told you, I will vigorously deny it."

Vincent set the book down as an unsettling thought occurred to him.

"Mother Gia, will the General live that long?"

The gunman could see some serious ramifications if this were the case.

The woman glanced in the direction of the window, and the gunman heard her softly mutter,

"Not if HE has anything to say about it." Then she returned her attention to Vincent's pale face. "As near as we can tell, the destria trace their bloodlines back to some kind of wingless dragon. They ALL use to live a very long time but we have bred that trait out of them. Their average lifespan is now approximately seventy years. One of the things that we also bred out of them is intelligence. A smart destria, is a dangerous destria. Every now and then though, a breeder will get a throwback, like the General. These animals are usually dangerously intelligent and if they don't CHOOSE to be with humans, well…. let's just say you have a serious problem that can live for a very long time."

Her voice trailed off.

Vincent was horrified,

"Why would ANY intelligent being CHOOSE a life of servitude?"

Chrysta snorted,

"I think Nuva does it just for the entertainment factor."

The woman's lips twisted as if the words that whispered out of her mouth next, were bitter.

"There is no choice really, the alternative is….terrible."

The gunman's stomach rolled (oh shit!) when, Chaos, his voice a low, soft growl asked,

"AND JUST WHAT IS THEIR OTHER…..CHOICE?"

Chrysta's voice came out as soft as a breath, even with his enhanced hearing, the ex-Turk had to lean towards the woman to catch the words,

"They are drugged, abused, and twisted into insanity. Then they are forced to fight in the pits."

Vincent had a split second of stunned shock to process what she had said. Then Chaos went ballistic. The man couldn't control his muscles sudden recoil as the demon lord tried to claw his way out in a howling rage. The "Host" ended up clear across the room on his hands and knees, locked in a frightening struggle for dominance.

As Vincent's eyes flashed from red to hot gold, Chrysta bailed out of the bed. The struggling man was between her and the door, his gleaming talons digging deep gouges in the hardwood floor. Chrysta hissed as she was empathically overwhelmed. She found herself drowning in the waves of hate and rage that were pouring out of Vincent/Chaos as his form wavered in a mist of black and red. The woman knew she had been lucky the first time she had dealt with the demon's awesome temper. She did the wise thing and took the only way out of the room.

Vincent didn't know how long they struggled, but when he was finally able to push the demon into retreating, the proto-materia in his chest was white hot and pulsing. The ex-Turk realized, as he drew in great harsh, shuddering breaths that he was kneeling between the bed and door. He heard footsteps flying up the stairs and the door blasted open as Grant just about kicked it off of its hinges. Valentine found himself in the unenviable position of staring down the double barrels of a sawed off shotgun. Not sure if even the Chaos gene could repair a brain that had been splattered all over the wall, the gunslinger wisely froze as Grant took in the shredded floor, the brilliant glow in the left side of Vincent's chest and the other man's weary features.

The barman's voice was eerily calm

"What in the HELL is going on?!"

Vincent noticed with approval that the shotgun never wavered.

"I apologize for the damage; Chaos and I were having a….disagreement."

Vincent kept very still as Grant's eyes surveyed the rest of the room. He tensed when the man's finger tightened imperceptibly on the dual triggers.

The big man's voice came out in a growl.

"Where is Chrysta?"

Vincent realized that the woman was not in the room.

"I am sure I frightened her." The gunman felt a sharp stab of guilt. "She probably did the smart thing and got the hell out of here."

Grant frowned and the shotgun dipped a little,

"That's odd, she didn't pass me on the stairs."

Valentine had been waiting and when the rifle dipped, he shot forwards, flesh hand closing in such a way that the hammers on the lethal weapon couldn't fall. As good as Grant was, the ex-Turk had possession of the shotgun and the big man's arm twisted behind him, before the barman could draw his next breath. The wide open window caught Vincent's attention.

He carefully applied pressure, causing the big man to give in such a way that he turned to where he could see it too,

"I believe she went through the window." He kept his deep voice calm.

Grant sagged a little in relief, and then jerked in Vincent's grip.

"Wait," he was almost whispering, "You FRIGHTENED her badly enough that she felt she HAD to go out a second story window… SHIT!"

Grant twisted suddenly and broke the ex-Turk's hold. He practically flew to the window. Vincent followed more slowly, a little confused. He had been in and out of the window enough that he knew, even with her fear of heights; Chrysta could negotiate the climb easily.

"Damn," Grant was panicked and Vincent didn't understand why, "It's too dark, I can't see her."

Vincent stepped closer to the window; his enhanced sight had no problem with the dark. He could see Chrysta, she was unharmed and evidently had stopped just as she reached the barn door. He also saw the General safely locked in his paddock, stalking along the fence towards her, but there was no way for the big silver to reach her. The ex-Turk was just about to tell the other man that he could relax, when the woman turned and started moving slowly along the fence towards the gate. Even with the dark, Vincent could see there was something odd in the way she moved. All of her easy grace was gone. As the woman limped along the fence line, the General followed, maintaining his distance. A serious shudder of unease passed over the ex-Turk as he caught a glimpse of Chrysta's face. It was pale, and still, her lips were pressed together so tightly that they were white. The unease flashed to fear as he realized that her eyes were glowing the same feral ice green as the eyes of the battle stallion ghosting along behind her.

"What the hell?"

It slipped past the gunman's lips in a whisper.

"What?..."Grant finally caught a glimpse of what was going on. "SHIT!"

The man turned and went flying out the door. That was enough for Vincent. He dropped out of the window, landing lightly in the courtyard below just as the woman reached slowly for the lock on the gate. Valentine realized that even with his speed he wasn't going to reach her in time. Every action seemed to slow so that his unnatural eyesight clearly saw her hand open the latch, The General reared behind the electrified gate, his low, guttural, anticipatory WAH WAH WAH echoing in the courtyard. Vincent remembered how Zephyr had taken that position in preparation for a killing strike. The gunman had covered three quarters of the distance as the circuit was broken and the gate swung open. Chrysta just stood passively and watched as her death towered over her. Vincent could see one of the guards come running from the barn but the man didn't have a clear shot. He knew he couldn't risk using the shotgun with her that close to the target.

"TOO LATE…. TOO LATE" screamed in his mind.

There was the sound of thunder and he caught a flash of white as fury incarnate came sailing over her paddock fence. Nuva landed hard, sliding past Vincent in a shower of sparks. As she reached the woman, the mare spun, and a hind leg lashed out catching the gate and slamming it on the startled stallion. His frustrated scream echoed through the courtyard as the beast twisted away, trying to avoid a painful shock. Placing her big body between her trainer and the re-imprisoned stallion, Nuva snaked her head around in a threat display, her vivid eyes glowing gem bright.

The gunman heard Grant run up behind him as the gunman managed to slip past the mare and re-lock the gate. He turned and saw Chrysta's eyes flicker between the feral green and the sky blue. Nuva seemed to win the mental tug of war as they flashed blue once more than faded to the normal green and gold that they were supposed to be. A look of anguish crossed the woman's face as she lifted a shaking hand to rub her forehead. Vincent saw her eyelashes flutter queerly and that is all the warning he got as her eyes rolled to white and the woman dropped. The ex-Turk's inhumanly fast reflexes saved her from hitting the hard flagstones. Easing Chrysta's limp body carefully to the ground, Vincent ran a careful hand over her, trying to see if there was any physical damage. The gunman could feel her heart hammering away through the sensors in his hand and her skin was cold and clammy.

Grant knelt next to him and his face was worried when he checked the pulse in her wrist. Vincent gathered the woman up in his arms and lifted her easily,

"We need to get her inside, she is in shock."

It took him little time to get her back up the stairs, then stripped and tucked into the warm bed. Vincent was relieved when he felt that frighteningly rapid heart rate slow to a more normal rhythm. Grant followed him up a little more slowly, as the barman took a moment to stop and grab a bottle of good brandy and some glasses on his way up.

When Grant came through the door, the intimidating young man turned from the bed, crossed his arms, and pinned the Inn keeper with a fierce red glare.

"Would you mind telling me, what the HELL just happened?"

The pale man's deceptively soft, deep…grim… voice made it clear he wanted some answers….NOW.


	26. Chapter 26

This is a not for profit fan fiction. I make no money from it. Square Enix holds all rights to the FFVII world and its characters. I am just playing with them for a while. I DO own the rights to the original parts of this story line and to my original characters. Please do not use without my permission

To Race the Wild Wind CH. 26

Grant set the brandy and glasses on the table and slipped past the gunman to satisfy himself that Chrysta was okay. Vincent watched him intently, but didn't say a word. As the barman returned to sit at the table and poured the amber liqueur with hands that were still shaking, the ex-Turk walked over and settled one hip on the window sill. In the shadowed room, all that Grant could see of the man was his tall, dark silhouette, the subdued gleam of that wicked golden gauntlet, and the red of eyes that glowed like the coals of a banked fire.

Taking a sip from his glass, the barman hesitated before answering,

"THAT…. Was almost a repeat of what happened six years ago. I don't understand the mechanics of it, Chrysta could explain better than I, but if he…." One blunt fingered hand waved in the direction of the General's paddock. "…can catch her while she is emotionally agitated, with her guard down, he can follow the fear or anger into her head and force a link. If she can't get her shields up in time, he can…lock… HER down, I think in much the same way that Chrysta does it to him."

The shadowed man's glowing eyes dimmed a little and his claws tapped a restless tattoo on his folded arm.

"So… when I frightened her enough to make her escape out the window, the General took advantage of her distraction?"

This was murmured softly, in a tone loaded with self loathing.

Chaos, feeling the heavy emotion, stirred from the sleep that Vincent had forced him into.

"WHAT HAVE I MISSED?"

The rage from earlier had burnt itself out and the demon sounded infinitely weary.

"WE… were responsible for almost causing another tragedy."

The gunman's words were short and clipped.

Vincent "felt" the demon lord ruffle through his recent memories, Chaos flinched as he took in the damaged floor, Grant's troubled face and the woman lying pale and still on the bed.

"I AM TRULY SORRY, VALENTINE."

It was a soft whisper. The gunman didn't answer; he had no forgiveness in him, either for Chaos, or for himself.

"There is no need to apologize, Chaos," this came softly from the bed.

Chrysta had her eyes closed, but Vincent could tell from the increase in her heart rate that she was fully awake. She sighed and those exotic green eyes opened.

"You can't fault a living Being who is only responding in a way that is TRUE to its nature." She slanted a sly glance at Grant and the brandy, "I HOPE you intended some of that for me."

Grant managed a smile and poured some into the glass that Vincent had ignored. He was startled when the gunman scooped up the drink, {the slender man had moved so quickly and quietly that he seemed to just "appear") and carried it over to Chrysta. Vincent knelt and helped her to take a drink of the rich warm, alcohol. The woman sighed and her fingers lingered for a moment on his hand, she didn't try to prevent him when he withdrew it.

The ex-Turk stepped back and his stern face was as still as alabaster,

"So, do you want to give me an explanation as to why something as dangerous as the General is still walking in the land of the living?"

Chrysta pushed herself up a little on the pillows, clearly uncomfortable with having him stand over her. He relented to the extent that he retrieved a chair and sat down next to the bed.

"I am sure that you realize that The General is one of the "throw backs" that we were discussing earlier. He did NOT choose to submit to human control and was well on his way to the Pits when he killed his trainer."

Chrysta watched the ex-Turk's reaction carefully. Chaos twitched a little but stayed subdued.

"I …interfered… when his original owner wanted to euthanize him. The stallion became my responsibility at this point. He HATED me with a passion that only an old line destria can achieve. As he saw it, I had prevented him from being released from a life he found unbearable. Nuva convinced me to keep trying with him, as he was very, very young in her eyes, and she felt he could be recovered. I actually trusted in her judgment when Silver Flame CHOSE to serve Sephiroth. GODS… they were MADE for each other."

Chrysta paused pressed her fingers tight against her temples. Vincent wordlessly handed her the glass of brandy.

She took a sip and continued.

"It seemed like we had the problem solved. Silver Flame worshipped Sephiroth, was content to have Forest work with him and seemed to even tolerate me to an extent. Then, Sephiroth started visiting us less and less. It was okay at first, a young stallion needs time to grow and mature before he is asked to do much, and Silver Flame was content with seeing his chosen sporadically. The last couple of times he came though, Sephiroth was DIFFERENT. He had always been aloof, and a little cold. Knowing his history, who could blame him? But now he became….unstable….and fey. The last time he visited, Silver Flame found whatever he had become, totally unacceptable. Sephiroth seemed not to care and broke his bond with the stallion. Silver Flame quite silently went from being just unstable to being completely insane. Every since then, the General feels he has been betrayed. He does NOT want to live his life under any human's control and he constantly searches for a way OUT and would LOVE to drag me into death with him!"

Chaos rumbled softly, "If he is insane and suffering, why don't you….accommodate… him. That would be the humane thing to do."

Chrysta closed her eyes for a long moment. She absent mindedly turned the glass around and around in her hands. When she glanced at the still gunman, those eyes were dark, and her face was sad.

"Yes….well… that decision was taken out of our hands six years ago." She hesitated, then continued.

"The General is only twelve years old. For an old bloodline, he is still considered a baby. Even so, he is probably one of the most intelligent destria I have run across. No… he doesn't have the WISDOM that Nuva has, but it would come in time. Now it is just an ability to think and plan. And he DOES plan."

Grant gave a short humorless laugh. He had finished one glass of brandy and poured a second. He raised an eyebrow at Chrysta and lifted the bottle. She shook her head and handed her empty glass to Vincent.

"For a couple of months we thought it was going to work out all right. You had to be careful around him, but no more so than when you are around any breeding stallion. Forest had gone in to his paddock to check him over and I was out in the courtyard. Standing rule, no one dealt with the General alone."

Grant stirred,

"I, unfortunately, had stepped out for a little while, a fact that I am sure the General was aware of,"

Chrysta nodded,

"Oh yes, HE had been planning this attack probably since the day Sephiroth rejected him. Silver Flame gave himself enough time that he was able to change the chemical composition of his venom."

Vincent's eyebrows arched up,

"They can do that?"

Chrysta flicked a quick look his way,

"Only the old line can. Thank the Gods." She shuddered. "The General, like Nuva, is well aware of my immunity to regular destria venom. So… he decided to change his. Forest never had a chance. My husband was finished and walking towards the gate, when the General struck. He hit Forest with one spur, precisely placed along the full length of his spine, instantly immobilizing him. Then he looked right at me and purposely crushed his victim's leg. When Forest screamed, I went right OVER the paddock fence….no gun… no sword…. Stupid…Stupid. Of course, that's what the General intended. He picked up on my anger and fear and the bastard followed it right in. He FORCED a link…" Chrysta's face was as pale as death. "It was like mental rape, I couldn't stop him and once he was inside, I could NOT get him out. He… LOCKED… and held me there and then systematically broke every bone in Forest's body."

Vincent was pinned and held by her eyes which had shifted to that dead ice shade.

"Then…..Do you remember that little trick that Nuva pulled the other day when she immobilized the Turk in Rave's group?

Vincent nodded slowly. Chrysta closed those terrible eyes and, thankfully, released him.

"Be well aware that they CAN remove someone's head that way."

Tears were tracing silent trails down the woman's face and she turned it away from the frozen ex-Turk.

Grants rough voice picked up the tale where she had had to stop.

"I returned to the Inn and came out of the back door just as he was rearing over her like he did tonight. In the space of time it took me to get to my gun, he laid her open like he was filleting a fish. I shot him, but he had already done lethal damage to Chrysta."

Vincent's brow furrowed in a sudden dark frown.

"You're a Turk. If you shot him, he should be dead."

Chrysta snorted, and she turned her head back to look fondly at the older man.

"It was one hell of a good shot. Grant "creased" him. That's where you shoot the third spine along a stallion's neck ridge. The shock of the bullet shattering the spine knocks them out."

Grant solemnly shook his head,

"No it wasn't a good shot, and I MISSED my target. I was TRYING to blow his bloody head off. I thought he was dead when I retrieved Chrysta. Thank the Gods I had Cures stock piled, as you can't find them in this small town. I couldn't do any kind of real healing because she needed to be surgically put back together, but I took stop gap measures and between that, Nuva and Dr. Whitet we held her together until I could get hold of Sephiroth and he could get a medical team air lifted to us."

Grant stopped here, noticing Vincent's incredulous look. The big man shrugged self depreciatively,

"Hey, I was owed a few favors."

Chaos had been silent through the entire tale, and when he did speak up, all of the human's in the room flinched at the repressed anger they felt roiling through the still air of the room.

"This still does not explain why that son of a bitch…IS….NOT….DEAD,"

Grant's face was grim.

"Sephiroth made it very clear when he arranged the air lift that if anything happened to the General there would be…consequences."

Vincent looked from the big man back to the woman whose fingers were nervously plucking at the edge of the quilt that covered her. She met his eyes squarely.

"The surgeons who were charged with saving my life had their hands full. The stallion's altered venom stripped the outer sheath off of the nerves along the wound, and there was no way to alleviate the pain this caused, add that to the emotional trauma and I just really didn't WANT to live. It is really hard to keep someone alive when they keep pulling out all of the tubes, wires and stitches, re-opening the wounds. After the third time in surgery to repair the damage I caused to myself, I got a visit from Sephiroth. He made it very clear that he felt that the stallion was my responsibility and that if I died, there would be no one to care for him." For a moment her eyes gleamed impishly. "I proceeded to tell Shinra's Silver General that he could go Fuck himself sideways."

Vincent's lips twitched involuntarily, he could imagine the aloof General's response to that.

She saw his reaction,

"Yes it was almost worth it to see the look on his face." The gleam faded, "Then he informed me of the consequences if I died, or if something "unnatural" were to happen to Silver Flame."

The look that Chrysta gave the gunman was perplexed.

"My head couldn't believe that he would go through with the threat, but my heart told me he was deadly serious, I worked VERY hard at staying alive after his visit."

Vincent felt a chill run through him.

"What where these…consequences…."

Grant got up and gathered the brandy bottle and empty glasses,

"He said, he would raze the town of Clearwater to the ground."

Chrysta watched silently as Grant slipped out of the door then turned questioning eyes on the quiet ex-Turk.

"Would he have?"

Vincent winced, remembering what Cloud had told him of Neibelhiem, but told her the truth.

"Yes… rest assured that if you or the General had died, Sephiroth would have kept his word."

Vincent rose and went to stand by the window. He watched as the General prowled the perimeter of his paddock and thought about what had almost happened this night.

"Chrysta, Sephiroth has been dead for almost five years."

She answered the unspoken question that she heard in his voice.

"Um hum, since then, I have learned that you can't fault a creature for being true to its nature. And… I understand why he is the way he is. Grant would kill him in a heart beat, but there are fewer and fewer of the old bloodlines cropping up. I see and understand Nuva's fear of losing her heritage entirely. It is my hope to some day be able to buy enough land that I can just turn him out with a few old blood mares to keep him in line and let them live their lives in peace. With age comes wisdom and if we could give him a chance to not HATE and rage all of the time, he might still come around."

She studied him for a moment, noticing the tenseness in his lines. She smiled and patted the bed next to her in a silent invitation.

"I am sorry Chrysta," Vincent's deep voice was no more than a soft whisper. "I need to be alone… to think."

Something flickered in her eyes and the smile saddened a little. She wiggled herself down into the quilt before closing her eyes.

"It's okay Valentine. I understand."


	27. Chapter 27

Just one tonight...kinda pressed for time. This is a fanfiction...Square Enix holds all rights to FFVII.

To Race the Wild Wind 27

Vincent sat in perfect stillness and his crimson eyes watched until Chrysta's even breathing pattern told him she was deeply asleep. He then slipped quietly out of the window and up to the roof. He spent the rest of the long night slowly rebuilding the walls around his heart that the woman had managed to tear down in the five short days he had known her.

"VINCENT….."

Chaos tried to intrude, and the ex-Turk patently ignored him.

The man watched the bright silver form of the General prowling his fence line restlessly and added another layer to the wall. Chrysta had her hands full dealing with one monster; she did not need another around to distract her. The almost fatal events of that night had driven that particular point home.

Valentine silently chastised himself for ever letting his guard down enough to care for someone again. He was a mortal danger to ANY that got close to him. Nuva's beautiful chain of jewels was an illusion; he DESERVED that tarnished silver and black, empty chain stretching into eternity.

"VALENTINE…." The demon spoke in a low, sad growl.

"Shut up, Chaos."

Was the only response he received and to Vincent's grateful surprise, the demon silently retreated to the back of his mind.

The sun slowly broke the horizon in a dazzling display of reds, pinks, and gold's. The ex-Turk took no pleasure in it, it was just another dawn, in a string of empty days that would march on forever. The silent man used this thought to add another layer of nothingness around his aching heart. He knew that when he got the wall thick enough, although the pain would still be there, he wouldn't be able to feel it.

Vincent shifted position as his acute hearing picked up the sound of Grant knocking at the door of the room. He could smell the inevitable coffee, and hear Chrysta's usual grumble,

"Gods…. I HATE festival week."

The gunman felt his lips quirk at Grant's ready answer of,

"So retire, then I wouldn't have to hear you whine."

And he ruthlessly schooled his features back to the cold visage that the people he knew, would have recognized.

He listened as Grant left the room and heard Chrysta come to the window.

"Valentine, are you up there?"

The words were spoken softly. He did not answer. The woman stood silent, watching the courtyard without really seeing it, and then with a sigh, she turned to get ready for the day.

The smell of dreamleaf wafted up and the man was amazed at how familiar a smell could become in such a short time. He waited, and allowed the morning to flow around him with out touching him. This was a trick Vincent had used many times to stay disassociated from people and events. It would become easy again in time.

The gunman was able to watch as Andrew brought Nuva out, groomed and tacked up for a ride. And he was proud of himself when Chrysta came out the door and he was able to observe that odd, flowing limp as she joined the young man and the mare in the courtyard, without feeling attachment. He had a harder time squelching the flare of jealousy that rose in his breast as she mounted, then gave the young man a hand up to ride behind her. Vincent's body reminded him of how pleasant riding that way had been. He ruthlessly crushed those feelings. One could not be jealous if one did…NOT…care!

Carnelian eyes caught the flash of green as she looked up towards him and lifted her hand in a half wave. He made no move to return it. The woman dropped the hand and slowly gathered her reins. He saw a fleeting sad smile cross her lips, then Chrysta turned Nuva and they headed out of the courtyard.

Vincent remained on the roof, wrapped up in his own dark thoughts. When the sun was hot overhead and the noon crowds were wandering in the street, he rose, stretched the kinks out of his lanky frame, and returned to the room. It took very little time to pack his belongings. He strapped Cerberus on his hip and settled the heavy red cloak over his shoulders. He was threading the last buckle when Chaos stirred.

"SO…WE ARE LEAVING THEN?"

This was a soft whisper in the dark recesses of his mind.

"Hnnn," was the only answer the demon received, as tucking his chin behind the tall collar of signature crimson, Vincent strode out the door.

Grant looked up from wiping the bar when the ex-Turk came down the stairs. His expressive eyes narrowed as he saw the gunman's bag. They scanned the slender man's pale face and skipped away from whatever they saw in those stern red eyes. Vincent nodded in his direction as he continued through the common room. Grant seemed about to say something but the soft ring of his cell interrupted him. The sound of a panicked voice erupted out of it when the barman answered.

Grant spoke in a quiet voice.

"Calm down Andrew, I can't understand you."

Vincent's extraordinary hearing easily picked up the voice on the other end of the phone as Andrew was practically screaming.

"Grant, ya gotta clear the street…."

There was a loud thump, and he heard what sounded like the pained grunt of a destria.

None of his business, the gunman thought as he continued to the door. The blood curdling, guttural scream of an enraged battle stallion that came from the phone, had him stopping and reversing his course in one motion. Grant caught his eye and turned the phone so that the gunman could better hear what was going on. The signal was coming in and out so what they heard was fragmented at best. Vincent heard Chrysta breathlessly cursing, then faintly…No, No, No…. SHIT! And again that loud thump and this time it was accompanied by a squeal from Nuva. Andrew came back on and the boy sounded breathless,

"….Gotta clear the street….can't stop him…..CRAZY!..."

Then there was another chilling scream.

Andrew sounded like he was in tears.

"Ya got about two minutes before…hit town…..if…can stay on him!...She…can't stop…have to SHOOT…!"

Grant was over the bar and heading for the door.

"WHAT?"

"…CLEAR THE STREET…. Inferno… insane…!"

Another sharp thump, then the young man's voice was cut off.

Vincent was a step ahead of the big man as they flew out the door. His nimble fingers were changing the rounds in Cerberus to armor piercing, explosive bullets as he ran. No one in the street paid any attention to Grant's shouting, but people scattered when a red cloaked shadow strode out to the center of the street, and the thunder of Cerberus's voice filled the air. Most of the people on the main street were concentrated beyond the Ironwood; Vincent knew that if they were going to stop the stallion they would have to draw a line in the sand there.

There was a rumble like an approaching storm and the crimson destria appeared at the end of the street. The gunman waited, feet carefully braced, the big gun pointed down in what looked like a relaxed stance. The stallion was covered in sweat, bloody foam flying from his mouth as he ran, ducking and dodging trying to escape Chrysta's iron control. Nuva ran at his side using her big body like a battering ram, shoulder to shoulder as her and Andrew tried to slow him down. As the astonished gunman watched, the stallion skittered sideways trying to reach a young woman who was pressed against the side of a building. Chrysta jerked that massive head around but couldn't stop the beast's sideways drift. Nuva fell back and came up on that side, blocking his run. The stallion screamed as they thudded together and his fangs slashed long, bloody furrows along the straining mare's side. Nuva gave a grunting cough of pain but held her ground. The red male twisted violently, almost unseating his rider and reached for Andrew with his deadly mouth gaped wide. Chrysta recovered her seat and her fist drove down hard on the animal's sensitive muzzle forcing it away from the young man. They were covering ground at an alarming rate.

"VALENTINE," Chaos prompted the ex-Turk.

Vincent set the gun for a single shot but held his fire; he did not want to kill the beautiful crimson beast, he was giving Chrysta every opportunity to get him back under control. When the pounding destria were close enough that Vincent could see Inferno's blazing red eyes, Cerberus snapped up. He still did not fire as Nuva was tight against the stallion and that heavily, armored, crimson head was dropped like a shield over the animal's vulnerable front.

With a strangled shout, Andrew peeled the cream off to the side. Chrysta braced one hand on the stallion's neck and reaching forwards, she wrapped her other hand in the rein up close to that armored head. Burying her feet in the stirrups, the rider used all of the muscles in her body to drag that head up and twist it to the side. For a split second, the gunman had a clear shot at Inferno's broad chest. Cerberus roared once. The bullet caught the destria, dead center at the base of his heavy neck. It took out his windpipe, the big arteries that ran on either side, and exploding, it shattered the stallion's shoulders and spine.

All control gone, the graceful animal's front end dropped, his chest plowed into the street, and Vincent watched in absolute horror as sheer momentum caused two thousand pounds of fast moving muscle and bone to somersault. Chrysta was locked in the saddle and she had no choice but to ride him down, at the last minute tucking herself tight against the foaming neck, trying to avoid being crushed. The hurtling body slid a good twenty feet, coming to a ground shaking stop at the ex-Turk's feet.

The gunman didn't holster the gun as he came around to the side, desperately looking for the woman. He jerked back as Inferno's head came up like a snakes, still snapping at what ever he could see with dull red eyes. Cerberus swung up to target him but somehow the rider appeared on the stallion's off side. She grabbed the long muzzle and closing that deadly mouth, she trapped Inferno's head under her arm and held it tight against her leather chest guard. Chrysta locked her other hand around the offside horn and pressed her face against the crimson's blood and foam streaked head. The woman was speaking softly and as the gunman watched, Inferno's eyes faded from that terrible blazing shade of red to the deep yellow that burned at the heart of a star. There was confusion in those fading eyes and the male tried to chortle at the woman who held him. She gently rocked the massive head when it turned to a cough, as the stallion was drowning in his own blood. Chrysta gently scratched at the stallion's bloodied ridges giving him what comfort she could.

Vincent had knelt by Inferno's neck; he was slowly stroking the silky mane with his clawed hand and felt in amazement when the great beast started to croon softly. It started raggedly, strengthened, and then slowly quieted as the fire that burned at the heart of a star, faded, went cold, and then…died.

The ex-Turk's hand paused as the sensitive pads ran over something that didn't feel quite right. Using just the very sharp tips, Vincent followed the odd signal down and in the space of a few seconds plucked out three crystalline hollow needles. As Chrysta settled the great head on the ground with a couple of final pats on the soft muzzle, he silently opened the hand, showing them to her.

Chestnut brows furrowed in a frown,

"What the hell are those?"

The woman reached to take them but the ex-Turk grabbed her hand in his, preventing it.

"They are an assassin's weapons. Hypodermic darts that will dissolve in the victims body within a half hour, leaving no trace."

Vincent's crimson eyes followed the tear that traced down her pale face. Then flashed up to see the terrible anger that flared in those odd eyes as she realized what he had said.

Before she could speak, Andrews's voice, loaded with panic, broke in.

"CHRYSTA!"

Both of their heads snapped around to see Nuva staggering, the mare was covered in red foam from front to back and her usually bright eyes were glazed. The stallion had slashed her to bloody ribbons down both sides.

Chrysta levered herself off of the ground with a groan, and froze for a second when she saw Vincent's red cloak. Then she turned on her heel and ran to the mare. As the woman reached the cream she snapped orders at the young stable man.

"Andrew, take those," she nodded at the needles in Vincent's hand. "Find the race council; I want to know what was in them. Then find Don Ricardo, he is going to want to know why his prize stallion," her voice broke here, "Is dead."

She glanced at Vincent,

"I know you were leaving, but I could use your stitching skills."

The gunman flinched away from the hurt in her eyes, but nodded, he would stay and help. Andrew took off running, and between Chrysta, Vincent, and Grant, they managed to coax and cajole the old mare to the barn, one trembling step at a time.

With Chrysta working on one side and Vincent working on the other it took nearly three hours to get the long, deep slashes stitched up. The beautiful cream was going to have some terrible scars. The woman took the time to slowly clean all of the foam and blood off of the mare's soft hide. Nuva stood through it all, her head down, shaking, breaths coming in long soft moans.

Chaos had stayed silent as they stitched, not wanting to distract them from the delicate work they were doing. As Vincent finished his side and then stepped back to clean up the mounds of bloody cloths and gauze, his deep voice rumbled out.

"I… FEEL… THAT SHE IS TERRIBLY DISTRESSED."

Chrysta looked up from where she was cleaning blood off of one slender white leg. She stood and ran her hands over the mare's soft muzzle.

"Yes, I imagine she will be… distressed… for a very long while. Inferno was her son."

The barn door banged open and one of the girls that worked for Grant stood there wringing her hands.

Chrysta looked at her in surprise; the waitresses NEVER came to the barn. The girl looked like she was crying,

"Chrysta, you have to come now… it's Grant."

The woman laid her head against Nuva's sleek neck for a minute. The gunman heard her whisper, "GODS, this day just keeps getting better and better."

They followed the little waitress to the common room. Andrew had just made it in and a heavy set man with silver hair was pouring a couple of drinks at the bar. Chrysta nodded at him as she entered. Grant was seated at a table staring blurrily at a paper in front of him. On the table was an empty bottle of Anesthetic and another that was almost empty. The man was quite drunk. He started to lift the second bottle to drink the rest and Chrysta's quick hand plucked it away from him before he could. Her face was worried,

"What gives Grant?"

The man blinked owlishly as silver hair slipped a cup of coffee in front of him. Grant stabbed a blunt finger on the paper and looked at Vincent,

Please don't let her kill me." The words were slurred but very understandable. "Or maybe, you should, you know, just LET her kill me."

Vincent looked at Chrysta in astonishment. She glanced down at the paper and froze.

"OH GODS….Grant…what have you done?

* * *

This chapter was just as tough now to edit as it was to initially write!


	28. Chapter 28

This is a fanfiction...Square Enix holds all rights to FFVII.

To Race the Wild Wind CH. 28

Chrysta seemed to sag, the piece of paper fluttered out of suddenly boneless fingers. The anger on her face had Grant pushing back from the table. The silver haired stranger snagged the offending paper before it reached the floor. He met Vincent's crimson eyes without flinching and offered a slim hand.

"You are Valentine, I presume." He had a mild, light, tenor voice. "I am pleased to finally make your acquaintance. I am Don Ricardo."

Vincent's gaze flicked down to the hand then back to the calm face, he did not extend his own. The pale grey eyes blinked sedately and with a slight shrug, the man went to studying the paper.

"Hmmm….It seems Mr. Brenen here was confident enough in Chrysta's abilities that, along with a substantial amount of gil, he has put the Ironwood up as collateral in a legally binding wager with Don Diego. He wagered that she would win the Gauntlet tomorrow."

That quiet face tilted towards Grant who had his eyes closed, big body loosely sagging in his chair. Chrysta had turned her back to him but the gunman could tell by the stiffness in her shoulders that she was livid. Her breathing had developed an occasional odd hitch.

Don Ricardo set the paper on the table and chose his next words delicately,

"And…since we no longer seem to have an entry in said race….." He gave a sad nod at Grant, "I see no way to prevent the Ironwood from changing ownership."

Andrew cleared his throat nervously and coming forward he tapped Chrysta timidly on the shoulder.

"Umm… the stuff in the needles….it was Thearazine."

The boy back pedaled as Chrysta turned slowly. Don Ricardo sucked in a breath and his quiet face hardened in anger.

"What's Thearazine?"

Vincent had already figured out the answer but wanted it verified.

"It's a stimulant/hallucinogen. They use it on the pit stallions to make them more aggressive."

Chrysta's face tightened with a flash of pain and she hugged her arms around her ribcage miserably.

"If you had any guilt about putting Inferno down, LOSE it. That amount was an overdose and he would have died a horrible death if you hadn't." She turned a stricken face to the inebriated barman. "Grant what were you THINKING? Forest loved this bar… and you were his best friend, that's why he deeded it to you in his will."

The big man stirred and his brown eye's sluggishly opened.

"Did it for you…"

The woman returned his gaze with a bewildered one of her own.

"What!?"

Chaos had been listening intently,

"HOLD ON….VALENTINE MAY I SEE THAT CONTRACT?"

Vincent reached out and slid the contract over to where the demon could peruse it.

After a short minute, There was a soft rumbling,

"UMMMMM…..CHRYSTA… DID YOU SEE WHAT DON DIEGO HAS WAGERED?"

The woman tiredly shook her head; her eyes were still studying Grant, who had laid his head down on crossed arms.

"DIEGO PUT THE TEN THOUSAND ACRES BETWEEN DRAGON BACK RIDGE AND FLAT TOP MOUNTAIN UP AS HIS WAGER." The demon clarified the location and enlightened the gunman.. "THAT'S THE VALLEY CHRYSTA CALLED…. PARADISE."

Don Ricardo sat back with a low whistle of astonishment. Chrysta just blinked, too stunned to say anything. Andrew slipped by the Don, he needed to get out to the barn and check on Zephyr and Nuva. As he passed by, he laid another small piece of paper on the table.

Ricardo smiled softly and shook his head. He smoothed the paper out.

"The council decided that since foul play was proven in this case they will allow a substitution for the race tomorrow."

Vincent sat forward as a sudden thought slipped through his mind. He re-studied the contract in front of him.

"This is worded in such a way that Grant bet that CHRYSTA would win the race, NOT Inferno."

The grey eyed man's fingers drummed a soft tattoo on the table, but that isn't what caught and held the gunman's attention. Chrysta's face had become very still and…thoughtful…

Don Ricardo pursed his lips as if he had bitten a lemon,

"It is no good, I have no other destria of the same caliber as Inferno. Really, I have none that even come close."

"No…..But I do."

Chrysta sounded a little breathless as she whispered this. She ran her hand down the right side of her chest guard and gave it a small tug. She looked long at Grant, slid her gaze past him and it lingered on Vincent for a moment. Then a nasty little smile twisted her lips. She turned and headed for the stairs tossing words over her shoulder as she went.

"Go ahead and fill out a new entry Ricardo. I WILL be riding the Gauntlet tomorrow."

Don Ricardo gathered himself up, and looking perplexed he asked,

"What destria am I entering?"

Chrysta paused for a moment on the stairs, and both men winced as a name floated down.

"Vera's Silver Flame."

Don Ricardo hesitated for a moment, and then with a nod at the silent gunman, he picked up that little piece of paper, and strode out the door.

The ex-Turk's head snapped around as a horrendous noise emanated from the bartender who was most definitely passed out. Grant was snoring.

Chaos shifted as Valentine glared at the older man. His voice was dark,

"DO YOU THINK CHRYSTA WOULD MIND IF I KILLED HIM NOW?"

"Hnnn," was the gunslinger's only answer.

It took Vincent a few minutes to locate his bag, as Grant had tucked it behind the bar for safe keeping. Chaos broke into his thoughts as he was contemplating what he should do next. "I THINK YOU SHOULD FOLLOW CHRYSTA."

The ex-Turk hardened the walls around his heart. "I said I would stay and help with Nuva, I promised nothing more."

Chaos shredded those walls and froze his heart with his next growled words.

"DO YOU REALLY THINK, THAT YOU CAN HAVE A TWO THOUSAND POUND ANIMAL ROLL OVER THE TOP OF YOU AND COME OUT OF IT TOTALLY UNSCATHED? SOMETHING IS NOT RIGHT. YOU….NEED….TO FOLLOW HER"

The gunman took the stairs two at a time and slammed the door open. He could hear the tub being filled and smell dreamleaf. Chrysta was standing with her back to him, watching from the window as Andrew did the evening chores. She had slipped out of her boots. The woman seemed fine as she turned towards the door, and Vincent could have KILLED Chaos when the demon snickered,

"FOR SOMEONE WHO DOESN"T…. CARE….YOU SURE CAME UP THOSE STAIRS AWFULLY…"

In the next moment, the gunman grimly told the demon lord, "Shut up!" as he strode towards the woman. Even from the door he could see Chrysta's lips had a bluish tinge and she was pulling at the chest protector, desperately trying to get it off.

As The gunslinger reached her, she sagged against him, panting in shallow, panicked breaths,

"I… CAN'T… catch my breath."

Easing both of them down, Valentine didn't even bother with the buckles and straps on the guard; he sliced through all of them and the shirt underneath with careful talons. Even fighting for breath, she managed a strangled laugh.

"DAMN… Valentine, you are HELL on shirts."

Vincent sucked a breath in through his teeth as he saw the extensive bruising the covered the right side of her rib cage.

"I don't care how precious they are here, THAT needs a CURE."

The man made to get up and she grabbed his wrist to stop him,

Chrysta shook her head, panting,

"Can't use any magic within twenty four hours of the race. No MATERIA, No CURES! Just get me to the tub...oh… GODS… not the PANTS!"

Vincent cut her pants off…. and scooping her now naked body up, he carried her bridal style and carefully set her in the steaming tub. For several LONG minutes the ex-Turk knelt and watched while Chrysta struggled to breath, He was just straightening up, (race be damned!) to get one of his CURES, when things started to ease up. Chrysta sank down deeper into the water with a relieved groan. Even though the breaths she drew in were shallow and careful, her face had better color and her lips had pinked up.

The woman opened one eye, taking in the tall, crimson cloaked man standing tensely over the tub.

"I think I just cracked some ribs. If it will make you feel better, you can check them, when I get out."

Vincent just stood silent, golden claws tapping on his crossed arm. Then without a word, he turned and left, leaving her to soak. Going down into the empty common room, he checked on Grant who was still snoring. Then he raided the bar. The gunman found where the Innkeeper kept the Anesthetic, (even with the dreamleaf, this was going to be unpleasant) and then he went looking for linens. He found some very nice quality ones upstairs, it was a shame to use them, he thought, as returning to the room the man tore them into long, wide strips.

Vincent was ready when he heard her struggling to get to her feet, and slipping into the bathroom, he plucked Chrysta out of the tub, wrapped her in a towel and deposited the surprised woman onto one of the straight backed chairs in the room. She sat gasping, and looked at the supplies he had laid out in astonishment. He stepped behind her, carefully peeled the towel down to expose her upper body and sternly reminded,

"You did say that I could check you out."

She gave him a apprehensive look,

"Well….yes….that I did."

Chrysta shuddered slightly when Vincent ran careful fingers over the bruised area. It started at her right shoulder and covered most of the right half of the woman's ribcage. Traveling around her side it extended over the sternum and into the left side also. The gunman's touch was as gentle as he could make it, but checking her ribs did take a little poking and prodding. He managed to elicit more than a few gasps, a couple of yelps and several really interesting swear words that even Chaos was impressed with. When he

was finished, he held a quick internal conference with the demon to compare their impressions and then poured and handed the woman a LARGE glass of Anesthetic.

"Drink all of that!"

Vincent sat in the chair opposite her and watched solemnly as she did as he demanded.

"From what Chaos and I can tell, you have at least three cracked ribs on the right, one flat out broken rib on the left, a much bruised sternum and a lot of crushed and torn muscles. I am going to have to wrap you tight so you can breathe a little easier."

Vincent's crimson eyes held her green ones for a moment, noticing that they were already starting to glaze. Dreamleaf and alcohol WERE a potent mix.

"I truly apologize for this, because I… AM…. going to hurt you."

"UmmHumm…" Chrysta tilted her head (yep her eyes were definitely glazed} She reached out and catching the edge of his crimson cloak she rubbed it lightly between two fingers, then she smiled sweetly,

"Ahh… Valentine, at least you are honest about it."


	29. Chapter 29

This is a fanfiction...Square Enix holds all rights to FFVII.

To Race the Wild Wind CH. 29

Vincent tried to work as quickly as possible. He had steeled himself to be emotionless, knowing that having those ribs and muscles compressed was going to be excruciatingly painful, but found that he couldn't ignore Chrysta's soft hiss of pain as he tightened the first wrap. Chaos stopped him before he went to the next and after a short, very nasty argument, made him untie the knot and wind the wrap tighter.

The second time he did this, the woman growled softly,

"CHAOS…. If you do that again, I am going to follow you in there, find you, and kick your black, bat winged BUTT to HELL and back!"

The demon lord was quiet for a moment, but he did not relent. He could…SEE… things that Valentine could not and knew, as Chrysta suspected, that there was a little more damage than just a few cracked and broken ribs. The demon growled. Normally he loved being the bad ass but right at this moment it… SUCKED! His anger at the situation made him snarl back.

"IF YOU ARE FEELING FROGGY… GO AHEAD AND JUMP!" Then he rumbled at Valentine, "I CAN'T BELIVE I AM SAYING THIS….YOU… ARE BEING TOO SOFT! LET ME DO THIS."

Vincent gladly gave the demon control of his hands, he could tell himself that, this way he would, in essence, not be the one doing the hurting. Chaos worked fast, wrapping, tightening, and tying the bands quickly, almost cruelly.

Chrysta gasped out one strangled "SON OF A BITCH.!" then kept as quiet and still as possible. When the dark lord had finished, he slipped around in front of the shaking woman were she could see his unhappy eyes glowing muted gold. Chrysta's face was deadly pale, on the very edge of passing out. Her pupils were so dilated that her eyes looked almost black. Chaos slid back and Valentine knelt down where the woman could lean her head forwards against his black shirted chest. The man stayed this way, supporting and balancing her, until she could gain a degree of control. He listened as her breaths gradually settled into a steadier rhythm and felt Chaos's satisfaction that they were deeper, stronger and less pained than before.

Vincent ruffled his normal fingers through her short hair and murmured in her ear,

"Better?" At her slight nod, he continued. "At least WE did not SIT on you."

The ex-Turk was rewarded with a soft chuckle, followed by a careful cough.

Chrysta stayed still, seemingly content to just sit and rest against him, Vincent maintained his position, he could do that forever, if need be.

His companion's fingers slid over the soft red cloak and when she spoke, her words were muffled and sad,

"You weren't even going to say good bye?"

She tightened her grip on the man as she felt him stiffen, not letting him pull away.

Valentine's deep voice was rough and strained as he tried to articulate the raw emotions that roiled through him.

"Chrysta… I can't…..don't…."

Chaos felt the woman ride the emotional stream in and carefully taste the longing, anger, anguish, self loathing mess that WAS Vincent Valentine. Most of all she tasted the underlying damage caused by a first love gone TERRIBLY wrong, ravaging guilt, and a deep, well rooted, paralyzing fear of the same thing happening again.

Withdrawing her mind, Chrysta slid her hands around the strong shoulders and back, rocking, slowly, carefully.

"It's okay Valentine," she whispered, "I know better than to try and take what you are unable or unwilling to give. That would be as… futile… as trying to race the wind."

Chaos did not interrupt, although he knew from experience that racing the wild wind was a lot of fun, and sometimes…just once in a great while… one could actually catch it for a moment. Then…oh then, it would give you the ride of your life!

Chrysta lifted her head and pushed the gunman back a little so she could look at his distressed face. She gently poked him in the breast with a stiff finger.

"Just… don't… be LEAVING… without saying good bye. That would be unforgivably rude!"

Vincent stood up and backed away, a small look of confusion/relief crossing his pale features. Her calm acceptance and understanding was not what he had expected. This was not the clingy, teary reaction that he had been slipping away to avoid. He was, oddly enough…disappointed?

Chrysta must have been able to read a little of what he was thinking because she snorted,

"WHAT… Did you think that after living as long as I have, that I couldn't possibly survive without a man in my life?….PLEASE!"

Her gentle smile took any sting out of the words. In his relief, Vincent did not notice that her usually easy to read eyes were shuttered tight.

The woman carefully levered herself up and passed her hands over the mummy like bindings on her chest.

"Thanks, this is really helping a lot."

As she slipped past the motionless man, the woman snatched up the neatly folded shirt he had placed on the table, and headed for the door.

A couple of quick, gliding steps had him blocking her path

Where do you think you are going? When the alcohol and dreamleaf wear off, you are going to find it hard to walk."

Chrysta sighed,

"Actually, walking isn't THAT much fun now, but I need to go down and check on Nuva." Seeing the look that crossed his face, she put up a hand and stepped back. "Being carried hurts almost as bad so… DON'T."

As he carried her down the stairs….

Vincent did his best to ignore her annoyed glare. She did insist that the gunman stop and set her on her feet when they reached the back door. He watched fascinated as she buttoned her shirt to hide the damage and closed her eyes in concentration for a moment. When Chrysta raised her head and opened the door, she glanced casually in the General's direction. He stared balefully back. There was not a sign of any pain or discomfort as she strolled across the courtyard, and into the barn. As Valentine followed behind he felt the big silver's hot gaze tracking him, the waves of hate and rage that emanated off of the beast made his gun hand twitch out of instinct.

In contrast the inside of the barn was quiet and calm. The gunman stood for a moment letting his eyes adjust to the dimness. He could hear the woman running her hands slowly over Nuva as she checked the mare out. She spent a few minutes stroking Zephyr's long black nose, and her eyes flashed between blue and the gold as she "talked" to them both.

She gave each a final pat, and walked back over to the door.

"I won't have any time to visit them in the morning." Was all she said, as she passed the gunman on her way out into the cool evening air.

This time, as she passed the General, she stopped, and just stood watching the stallion. Chrysta was so still, for such a long time, that Vincent laid a hand on her back, worried that she was in the silver's thrall.

"I wish you would reconsider this. Even with dreamleaf, you will not be able to walk tomorrow."

The woman flashed a tired smile at him,

"Well… it is a good thing that I am RIDING the Gauntlet, not WALKING it. I think I am going to just go up and try to get some rest. Would you mind seeing that Grant doesn't spend the night at that table?"

"Hnnn," was all the ex-Turk said as he watched her go back inside.

It was dark by the time he had the big bartender wrestled up to his room. He left the big man sprawled loosely across his bed. When Vincent returned to their room, Chrysta had stolen most of the pillows and had wedged them around herself on the duvet so she could sleep half way sitting up. The woman was drifting in and out of a light doze.

"SHE PROBABLY CAN'T BREATHE WHILE LYING DOWN," chaos observed unhappily.

Vincent brought a chair over to where he could sit and observe the woman's restless sleep. Chaos's wrapping had helped, but it was easy to see that she was still very uncomfortable. The gunman sat for a couple of hours, hoping that she would settle into a deeper sleep where her body could find some relief.

He finally couldn't stand it any longer.

"So….. How are we going to stop her?"

"I DON'T THINK WE CAN." Chaos sounded as miserable with that particular answer as he was. "SHE EVIDENTLY FEELS THAT ACQUIRING THAT LAND IS WORTH THIS CONSIDERABLE RISK AND NOTHING YOU OR I SAY, IS GOING TO MAKE A DIFFERENCE."

Vincent growled,

"We could tie her to the bed."

Chaos gave a low, dark chuckle,

"WHERE AS, THAT MIGHT BE FUN IF SHE WAS UP TO IT. I…..WOULDN'T WANT TO BE AROUND WHEN SHE GOT HERSELF FREE." The deep voice turned thoughtful. "IT SEEMS TO ME THAT THERE IS ANOTHER WHO'S FATE IS TIED UP IN HOW THIS PLAYS OUT. MAYBE WE SHOULD TRY TALKING TO HIM? LISTEN... I THINK I HAVE A PLAN."

That was how Vincent found himself outside the General's paddock, holding his cloak loosely in one hand and with Cerberus on his hip instead of being snuggly nestled in the other hand. The man watched as the big silver, who stood at the far side of the enclosure, slowly curled his lips back and popped his nasty, LARGE sharp edged fangs together with a sound like a gunshot.

"I can't believe I let you talk me into doing this," The demon could hear the apprehension in his Host's voice.

Chaos couldn't help himself.

"I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU LET ME TALK YOU INTO DOING THIS, EITHER."

That startled a chuckle out of the ex-Turk and with a quiet,

"Chaos, you are such an ASSHOLE….Here we go."

The man vaulted over the fence. He made it to the center of the pen before the massive destria even twitched. It seemed that the General just couldn't believe his eyes. That couples of seconds were all they got as, with a low rumbling moan, the stallion charged. Vincent held his ground until the last second, then spun away dodging hooves and teeth as he flicked the cloak in front of the lurid green eyes disrupting the animal's flow. The ex-Turk knew this beast was intelligent so he was only going to get one shot at this. Again the stallion charged, and again at the last second Vincent melted away from in front of him, flipping the scarlet cloak at those insane eyes.

The third time the General charged Vincent didn't dodge. The animal ducked sideways as if expecting him to. And the gunman stepped forwards, sucking himself up on his toes as the wicked black horns sliced through his shirt barely scoring his stomach, He turned with the stallion and tucked himself behind the heavy ridge where teeth and horns couldn't reach. Reaching over the thick neck with the gauntleted hand, he locked onto the long off horn as he threw the cloak over the silver's face at the same time with the other hand. The beast's momentum had his boots sliding along beside the flashing hooves. He dug his feet in and twisted hard, using ALL of his considerable, enhanced strength. He could FEEL the stallion's astonishment as his massive head was twisted up and back. The whiplash that traveled along the animal's spine took him right off of his hooves and he crashed onto his side into the dirt. Moving like nothing more than shadowed lightening, the gunman buried his knee's on that high crested neck, tightened the cloak around the ice green eyes, blinding the silver, and at the same time he tightened his claws around the big arteries and windpipe under the heavy jaw.

"BE STILL," he hissed.

The big animal started to thrash, then caught Valentine's scent. Evidently there was enough of Chaos in it, that in confusion, the General lay still.

Chaos slipped forwards and together the gunman and the demon, painted a picture of that high isolated valley. They explained what Chrysta wanted to do, although the low angry moan that rumbled through the body under them at mention of her name did not bode well. Chaos rumbled right back.

"LISTEN ASSHOLE, (Vincent smothered the slightly hysterical snicker that tried to pass his lips} YOU ARE IN A WIN… WIN HERE. YOU FINISH FIRST IN THE RACE WITH CHRYSTA STILL ALIVE, YOU GET PARADISE. YOU LOSE…WITH CHRYSTA STILL ALIVE, AND I WILL PERSONALLY GRANT YOUR HEARTS DESIRE AND TAKE…YOU…OUT! EITHER WAY YOU END UP HAPPY. ON THE FLIP SIDE… IF YOU HURT THE WOMAN, WE WILL MAKE IT OUR LIFE'S MISSION TO ENSURE YOU LIVE A VERY LONG AND UNHAPPY LIFE."

The stallion released another long, shuddering angry moan.

The demon stepped back into the shadow. Vincent did a quick calculation.

"Okay oh brilliant one, how do we make it to the fence?"

The demon answered nonchalantly.

"WELL VALENTINE, AS ONE ASSHOLE TO ANOTHER, I WOULD SUGGEST... THAT... YOU…..RUN!"

Vincent was up in a flash, he was amazed at how fast something of that size could move! He could feel the General's angry breath and snapping teeth right on his ass as he flew over the fence. They stood and watched as the enraged stallion circled the paddock looking for a way to get to them.

Vincent dusted his pants off and checked the long shallow slashes dug across his stomach.

"That went over well don't you think?" His words dripped with sarcasm.

"SHUT UP VINCENT."

Chrysta was still sleeping fitfully, when the ex-Turk slipped quietly into the room. He studied her white face noticing the light sheen of sweat on it, and then he went in and took a quick shower. He was pretty sure that the heavy scent of the General that was on him would disturb the resting woman. As he stepped out wrapped in a towel, he realized her green eyes were open and tracking him.

When she saw she had his attention, Chrysta smiled slightly,

"I have been laying here trying to levitate that bottle of Anesthetic over to myself. I haven't succeeded yet."

Tucking the towel around his waist the gunman poured a small glass and took it over to her. She hissed through her teeth and coughed softly as she carefully reached for it. One finger drifted out and traced across the already healing slashes on his pale stomach.

He looked away from the question on her face.

"It is nothing, at Chaos's suggestion; I got in an argument with one of the barn….cats."

One chestnut brow raised as she sipped the drink.

"UmHummm,"

Vincent winced as the demon, not one to be willingly thrown under the bus, piped up.

"HEY….MY IDEA WAS BETTER THAN HIS."

That gentle finger stopped moving,

"And just what was his idea?"

Vincent hastily removed portions of his anatomy out of her reach when the demon lord answered smugly.

"HE WAS GOING TO TIE YOU TO THE BED!"

* * *

Ya gotta love Chaos...he is SUCH an asshole!


	30. Chapter 30

This is a fanfiction...Square Enix holds all rights to FFVII.

To Race the Wild Wind 30

Vincent spent the rest of the long night watching Chrysta slip restlessly in and out of sleep. He helped where he could when the pain drove her awake, by getting ice packs from the bar and slipping them around her body where he knew the bruising was particularly bad. The ex-Turk had just returned from downstairs when a noise out in the courtyard had him drifting silently over to the window. The barest hint of pre-dawn light revealed Andrew setting up supplies in the courtyard. The stable boy was evidently preparing the General's tack for the day. As the gunman watched, Grant came out and had a short conversation with the young man. He must NOT have liked what he heard, because he shot back into the bar.

Valentine was already moving and by the time the older man made it up the stairs, he was standing in front of the door, blocking the man's entry.

"Move,"

The big man made the mistake of giving the ex-Turk what sounded like an order.

Anger slammed through the usually stoic gunman and he uncoiled like a spring. He had the bartender off of his feet, pinned to the opposite wall, with Cerberus in his hand, cocked and at the stunned man's temple, before he could twitch. Grant stared into the hard, pale face and those hot, blood red on gold eyes and wisely froze. He knew he was outmatched and looking at his death. Vincent also froze, caught in a savage fight with his own temper.

Chaos rose in his mind, but oddly the demon had his own rage in check.

"VALENTINE, SHE WILL HATE YOU IF YOU KILL HIM."

Vincent blinked but his grip didn't slacken, and the gun hand was deadly still.

"This is YOUR fault…. Give me a reason NOT to blow your fool head off."

Brown eye's closed for a moment and when they opened they held the crimson ones without flinching.

"I missed my shot six years ago. Because of ME that S.O.B is still alive." Grant's face twisted, "I thought the slight chance of loosing the Inn was worth the risk, if she gained that piece of property for the General. I didn't realize the risk would become so great." The Inn keeper looked totally miserable. "You might as well shoot me… If he kills her today, I am going to do it myself."

Chaos kept his words calm and quiet, the demon was all for blood and violence but he didn't want the gunman to do something he would later regret,

"HE IS DEADLY SERIOUS VALENTINE, YOU CANNOT PUNISH HIM ANYMORE THAN HE IS PUNISHING HIMSELF."

"Hnnn…"

This came out as a slow growl. Vincent managed to back off of his anger enough to get the gun un-cocked and re-holstered. He let the older man drop. The gunman's tall, black, red cloaked frame continued to block the door.

"Chrysta just got back to sleep; I don't want her woken up."

Grant straightened his clothes and cleared his throat, eyeing the closed door.

"Is she okay?"

The hopeful look that accompanied this question, quelled whatever anger was left in the ex-Turk. He dashed that hope when he answered truthfully.

"No, she most definitely is not….okay…."

The big man flinched and ducked his head for a moment.

"Well… then… is there anything I can do to make this easier?"

Valentine managed a slight smile and pushed the older man lightly towards the stairs.

"I would imagine that she will be looking forward to some of your excellent coffee when she wakes up."

Slipping quietly back into the room, Vincent checked on the still sleeping woman than went back to watching Andrew, polish and check every inch of that harness. The General had ghosted over to the gate and he also watched the young man with avid interest. A short time had past when the gunman's vigil was interrupted by a soft scratch at the door. Opening it, Vincent observed Grant, who had returned with a tray balanced in one hand, and a long black duffle in the other. The ex-Turk stepped back, with a finger admonishing silence, to his lips, he allowed the older man in. Grant set the tray on the table and Chrysta stirred a little, then settled as the smell of coffee permeated the room.

Grant glanced her way and his expressive face stilled as he took in the tight wrapping on Chrysta's upper torso. Then he gestured at the duffel bag,

"She is going to want to go over this before the race." He kept the words pitched low as he headed back out the door. "I am going down to boil some water; she is going to want more than just coffee."

He stopped as a soft voice murmured from the duvet.

"Maximum dose, Grant," was all Chrysta said. The big man's shoulders hunched a little but he said nothing as he nodded and left the room.

Curious, Vincent opened the big leather bag. On top he found a box.

The ex-Turk looked towards Chrysta who made a motion with one finger indicating he should open it.

"I would appreciate it if you would make sure those are in perfect working condition."

Nestled on the foam inside, was a beautiful, deadly looking handgun. Chaos rumbled softly in appreciation. He could tell it had been made specifically for Chrysta by a gunsmith with an eye for detail. The bore peeked evilly out from between the black fangs and long, lean muzzle of a stylized destria's head. The whole piece gleamed a shadowed black and fiery crimson, the horned ridge flaring to form a protective shield over the hand when it was held. The grip was shaped into an elegant arched neck which was a little small for his hand, but he guessed would be a perfect fit for hers. A soft black leather holster accompanied it. The gunslinger took a moment, flipping open the six round chamber and verifying that it was very clean and well oiled. The gun's mechanism operated as smoothly as Cerberus's ever had.

Vincent glanced over at the resting woman but she had leaned her head back and her eyes were closed. Chrysta looked like she was concentrating on just breathing… slowly and carefully.

The next item in the bag was the reason it was so long. Resting in a Black and red enameled sheath was a long, slender black sword. Holding it up to the dawn's soft light he could see the ripples of color where the metal had been folded, beaten and folded again. This was light, strong, premium steel. It seemed too long to be wielded by Chrysta comfortably but the ex-Turk realized it was the perfect length for use when mounted on a destria.

Underneath these unique, beautiful weapons laid a chest and back guard, but it was not made of hard leather. This looked like nothing more than a snake's scales made out of glinting black and crimson metal. The scales were linked together in such a way that the whole thing flowed, as supple as a serpent' skin but hard as dragon scales. There were pieces designed to protect the arms and legs with it. Vincent's brow furrowed, he felt he was missing something here. This did not look like protective riding gear. It looked like….

"BATTLE ARMOR!" the demon lord softly finished the thought.

There was a soft snort from the bed, and Vincent looked up to meet shadowed green eyes.

"It's called the… GAUNTLET… for a very good reason!"

Seeing his confused look the woman clarified.

"There are probably only six real contenders in the race. The other twenty, give or take, are ringers, hired and entered by the big money owners to interfere and stack the… odds…. in their riders favor. Violence and death are part of the game."

Chaos shifted forwards a little,

"There will BE no Gauntlet if I go in and clear the field."

The subdued thunder in the demon's angry tone made it very clear he WASN'T joking.

Chrysta flinched; she had a sudden, vivid mental vision of the blood bath that could ensue.

She stifled a groan as she shifted. It was evident that the woman was carefully testing to see how painful moving was going to be.

"NO! Any help ON the course by someone who is not entered in the race is grounds for immediate disqualification. You CANNOT interfere in any way."

Chaos just growled in response.

A soft knock interrupted and Grant came in carrying a steaming mug. The sharp smell of dreamleaf preceded him.

Chrysta went to sit up and froze. What little color was there… slowly drained out of her face.

Vincent felt too badly for her, to be smug.

"I TOLD you that you wouldn't feel like walking."

Grant slashed a hard look his way and started towards the bed, Vincent met him there. Between the two of them they managed to get the woman sitting up. Grant supported her, while the gunman steadied her hands so she could drink the bitter brew.

Chrysta shuddered when she finished,

"Gods… That is… NASTY!" Then, she hissed softly as they helped her lean back against the pillows. Her eyes were closed. "I do…HATE… festival week!"

Grant's face twisted miserably, and he looked away. Vincent elbowed him sharply in the ribs. The barman grunted with the impact,

"Then you should retire, so we don't have to listen to you whine."

The ex-Turk nodded a little in satisfaction when Chrysta's lips twitched up in a smile.

After a short while the woman coughed carefully, and sat up. Her movements were a little slower and stiffer than usual but the dreamleaf seemed to have worked its magic. She suggested that Grant go down and scrounge up some breakfast. As soon as he left, she made her way over to one of the chairs and slanted a meaningful look at the ex-Turk.

"I hate to ask it of you, but some of these…" Chrysta passed her hands over the wrap.

"…need to be re-tied, and I have to have some support all the way to my hips."

Vincent steeled himself, lifted the edge of her shirt and could not hide his wince as he saw that the bruising had extended down to her right flank.

What followed was a miserable fifteen minutes for the both of them, but when Chaos was done, the woman was wrapped tightly enough to support her, but not so tight as to interfere with her mobility. Chrysta managed her pants and shirt alone but needed help lacing up the tall riding boots.

Running her hands over the snake mail, she shuddered.

"I am not putting this on until the last minute. I don't want to bear the weight until I have to."

A little later as they sat down in the common room, Valentine watched as Chrysta picked half heartedly at the breakfast that Grant provided. She actually ate very little, being more interested in the coffee than anything. After pushing her food around on her plate for a while, she glanced at the sunlight outside and sighed,

"Well, I guess we had better go out and get HIM ready."

Grant sat down,

"Hold on a moment, we need to know if you will be keeping to the planned route?"

Chrysta shook her head.

"No, the General hasn't had the conditioning necessary for that kind of distance. I will be taking him through Splatter canyon. It is the shortest most direct path."

Grant winced but nodded. The three of them then made their way out to the courtyard.

Chrysta checked over the tack that Andrew had been working on so diligently and nodded her satisfaction. She looked at the stallion that stood in the center of his paddock. The feral green eyes glared balefully back.

Glancing sideways at the red cloaked gunman, the woman smiled slyly,

"Well…. Nuva is too injured to help hold him for saddling; anyone got any bright ideas?"

"I could shoot him and we could saddle his corpse!"

Grant drawled this with no hint of humor.

Andrew snickered as Chrysta pinned the barman with a hard look.

"THAT is ...not… an option, Grant."

The big man just shrugged.

In the end they all four entered the paddock, figuring that with four targets, ONE of them had a chance of getting a rope on the rogue. The General just stood and watched Chrysta as Vincent walked up and clipped the rope to the animal's heavy collar. If his stomach hadn't been roiling in nervous reaction, the gunman would have laughed at the stunned look on the woman's face.

He didn't feel like laughing a moment later when he was tightening the cinch on the saddle and that wicked head whipped around, nasty mouth closing on the shoulder of his gun arm. He felt a slight tug on his hip and Chrysta had Cerberus drawn and the triple bores buried under the stallions jaw. Valentine grunted as those massive jaws tightened painfully, and the man flinched at the triple clicks as the woman pulled back the master lock that primed all three hammers on the big gun. Her hand was as steady as a rock. A look like "I could do this if I wanted to" passed through the wicked green eye closest to him and the General released his arm. Vincent reached over and took the big gun out of Chrysta's hand, carefully dropping the hammers back into the safe position and re-holstering it.

He glanced sideways at her,

"The recoil would have shattered your wrist if you had fired it from that position."

His companion shrugged,

"I know that, and you know that, but….He….didn't know that."

When they were done, the General stood resplendent in Black and Crimson. Not only was the saddle and bridle these intense colors, but the stallion also had snake mail that glittered over his shoulders, rump, high crested neck and wide chest. Andrew tied him to stand and wait. The stallion arched his neck, checking himself over, seemingly very aware of the impression he made.

Chrysta snorted a short laugh,

"No modesty in his family I guess."

They could hear the fanfare as preparation got under way for parade to post.

She turned toward the street.

"Well that's my cue to go get ready." The woman headed for the door, "Give me a few minutes then please clear the entrance to the street.

Grant watched her until she disappeared inside than turned and grabbed Vincent's wrist. He had a small map in his other hand.

"How long does it take you to recover from one of your shifts?"

Vincent frowned but answered,

"twenty minutes if someone is pushing me to awake. Why?"

The barman spread out the map.

"You will have to head back this way when they hit this mark. Chrysta will need you here when she makes the finish line."

Grant saw Valentine's confusion,

"Listen I don't trust Diego! You can't help her out while she is ON the course…but… there is no rule saying you can't keep an eye on her from ABOVE the race"

Chaos surged forwards as they both realized what he was suggesting. The Inn keeper handed him a small ear piece,

"You will be able to communicate with her using this. DON'T distract her, DON'T interfere on the course."

Vincent scooped up the transmitter and was already shifting as he moved.. People scattered as Chaos flowed down the alley and sent a wave of red rage ahead of him. Grant followed, and they cleared and held it to the street, waiting for her to bring the General out.


	31. Chapter 31

This is a fanfiction...Square Enix holds all rights to FFVII.

To Race the Wild Wind Ch. 31

People were gathered along each side of the street, shouting and clapping as the riders paraded the big racers to the starting line. More than one rider had their hands full as the intelligent animals responded to the noise and excitement. Two stallions rose on their hind legs screaming and striking at each other, until the race handlers managed to drive them apart. The beautiful gold, white trimmed stallion of Don Diego's, crow hopped in a circle trying to dump the Don's red headed son. Chaos was VERY disappointed when Rave managed to stay on.

The riders were trying to get the high strung beasts to line up and had almost succeeded when the General's screaming challenge echoed out of the alleyway. It started impossibly high, making the hair stand up on the back of everyone's (except Chaos's, of course} neck. Then it traveled down the scale ending in a deep, rumbling WAH WAH WAH. Every destria on the line spun, not wanting to have their ass ends to the monster coming out of the alley.

Grant snickered,

"Bet they didn't take the… I am a bigger bad ass than you are, factor… into account when they agreed to let him race."

The ground seemed to shudder when the big silver thundered out onto the street.

Chrysta had him collected in a tight canter and she just barely brought the impressive beast to a sliding, rearing stop. The black and crimson snake mail glittered in the sunlight, accentuating the gleaming silver hide and the black striping that extended over the General's massive shoulders and down his powerful legs. His white mane and trimmings flowed like living things in the wind of his movement. The difference between the, bred for running racer's, and this throw back to a battle stallion were stunningly obvious. The runners were sleek, powerful looking beasts; but they did not have the massive high crested neck, or the thick rippling muscle that made the General look like a primordial force of nature. The only stallion that came close in size was the dappled golden beast of Diego's. This destria was confident enough that he reared and answered the rogue's challenge.

Chrysta tightened her grip on the four reins, and had the great beast turning while he cantered in place. This kept the General occupied while they got Rave's animal back under control. She had put on her snake mail; it shifted and glimmered like solidified ebony fire over her trim form. Crimson greaves adorned her forearms and lower legs each equipped with sharp dagger like blades that pointed out. The black and red, almost delicate looking sword strapped to the General's shoulder, the beautifully deadly gun holstered at the woman's hip, and the living, breathing, INSANE weapon that she rode drew the attention of every one on the street. Even some of the hardened riders looked like they would rather be elsewhere. It was very obvious that this pair was a force to be reckoned with. As the stallion slowly turned in place picking up and pounding down those big cloven hooves, Chaos saw that there was a large sheathed dagger, and a small black pouch on her other hip. She moved easily with the stallion, her body alive with that odd, lithe grace that had always been a part of her every move.

Chaos shifted uneasily as he watched, the dreamleaf had not alleviated ALL of the woman's pain that morning and she should not have been able to move that smoothly. When she glanced his way, her mouth was pulled into a tight, predatory, tooth baring smile and her eyes were shimmering, jewel bright, in her lightly flushed face. Seeing his dark frown, the woman gave him a cheeky wink.

Chrysta held the stallion back from the line, nodding to the stewards, making it clear that she did not mind starting from where she was, behind the pack. Again the competitors lined up and this time, as the crowd quieted in anticipation, the starting shot echoed out. The pack surged forwards with a sound like rolling thunder combined with the screaming of the excited crowd. Chrysta had the General so tightly in check that his body looked almost compressed, head bowed to his chest, weight shifted back on his dancing hind legs. She held him there, waiting for the group to clear the confines of the street.

As he watched his competition move out, the stallion's ice green eye rolled in Chaos' direction, his body stilled and held like a quivering statue. Then, those black lips peeled back in what looked like an evil, fang toothed smile. That wicked, anticipatory expression jerked The demon out of the crouch he had assumed to take off. Before he could react in any way, Chrysta loosened the reins, rocked her center of balance forward, and the stallion uncoiled, launching himself down the street like a thrown spear.

Golden eyes narrowed, watching the rider as she used her whole body to keep the savage animal in the center of the street away from all of those tempting human "morsels".

"GRANT,"

The demon crooked a black talon in a come hither gesture. Chaos' respect for the man recovered a notch when the bartender came forward without hesitation. The Innkeeper listened intensely to the demon's gravelly voice, nodding to indicate his understanding of the instructions. He backed away as the dark one strode out to give himself wing room.

Chaos growled back over his shoulder as he crouched to take off.

"IF EITHER OF THEM GIVES YOU… ANY… FLACK; TELL THEM… VALENTINE WON'T BE THE ONLY ONE THEY WILL HAVE TO ACCOUNT TO!"

In a flurry of black wings and wind, he sprang up and shot along the street, causing the crowd to scream and clap again, thinking it was part of the show.

It only took a few minutes for the demon lord to catch up to the racing pair. Chrysta was following the path that led to the river route that they had covered before. The other riders seemed to be avoiding it, as news of the rapines had been passed along. The woman was cutting every corner that she could before they reached the forest. She often directed the galloping stallion off of the path to cut across open ground. This was shaving distance, but it made her work harder. Chaos could see her body making constant and minute adjustments in its balance as she used her skill and experience to steady the big animal as they traveled over the rougher ground. The demon dropped his altitude, picking up speed so he could ride over the pair. He leveled off high enough that it wouldn't distract her, but low enough that his black shadow passed over them, alerting her that he was there. He saw her head's slight movement and a flick of her fingers, acknowledging that she was aware of him.

Chaos turned on his transmitter, knowing now that it wouldn't startle her.

"I WON'T BE ABLE TO SEE YOU ONCE YOU ARE IN THE TREES. CONTACT ME EVERY COUPLE OF MINUTES SO I CAN FOLLOW WHERE YOU ARE AT!"

The rider must have turned her radio on so that it was doing a constant feed because, although she didn't answer, he suddenly could hear The General's pounding hooves, Chrysta's occasional murmur as she encouraged the stallion and, more often, hissed curses as she swore at him when he fought her control.

She flashed a quick, narrow eyed look up at Chaos's dark winged form as they entered the shadow of the forest,

"No matter what you hear, Chaos, DON'T interfere,"

The winged one gave a slight nod as he dropped a little lower, just skimming over the trees. She was going to be traveling where he couldn't see her for a long while and he wasn't PROMISING anything.

Chaos found that if he flew at just the right height he would get fleeting glimpses of silver and crimson, this made the pair easier to track. He almost dropped into the trees when a loud thump and crack came over the link.

"Damn it…..you fucker, do that again and I WILL put a bullet in you."

The radio did a fairly good job of picking up the fury in Chrysta's voice.

Chaos pulled back up and glided as he looked for any flash of color showing where they were.

"ARE YOU OKAY?"

He heard her grunt as she fought the silver for control, then a breathless

"Am fine… asshole just tried to scrape me off on a tree."

The only sound for a while was the muffled rumble of hooves, Chaos relaxed a little. Maybe, the stallion had worked it out of his system.

A sound came over the radio that the demon was very familiar with, the double click of a gun being cocked.

"I have company."

Was all Chrysta had time for.

The General screamed hoarsely and three sharp CRACKS echoed through the forest as Chrysta's gun voiced its own challenge. The sound of the stallion's grunt of pain at twin impacts came over the radio and the screech of talons skittering over snake mail made the demon's skin crawl.

The racing pair broke in to a slight clearing and Chaos had a glimpse of a rapine hanging on to the stallion's shoulder, digging it's talons in, trying to reach the rider. Chrysta swung the elegant gun up and over, literally putting her hand in the dagger toothed mouth as she pulled the trigger. The ugly head disintegrated, and the General's flying back hooves caught another attacker that had launched itself at his rump. As the trees closed back around them, the pair was pulling away from the pursuing animals. The pack was slowing down. They had lost five members in the same amount of seconds and knew they were hopelessly outmatched when it came to keeping up with the General's speed. They turned off, looking for easier prey.

Chaos listened carefully, the General's hoof beats never faltered and Chrysta's breathing settled back into a steady rhythm, it sounded like neither had come to any real harm. With the noise of the pack crashing through the undergrowth, the demon lost track of the pair for a moment. He gained altitude trying to get a glimpse of them. As a result he was high, a little behind and to the left when they broke out of the trees.

They were heading for the ridge overlooking Paradise valley when the General slipped sideways while in full stride. He twisted and spun seemingly all at once. Chrysta's injured muscles could not compensate in time for the combination of three different direction changes in the space of a breath and she was pitched off over the massive silver shoulder on the right. Chaos watched as she tucked into a ball and hit the ground rolling. She must have had an idea of what the General was thinking because she continued to roll, just vacating the spot where all four of the stallion's sharp cloven hooves were viciously planted. The stallion followed her, trying to crush her under his hooves, but his momentum carried him past.

Chaos was gaining speed and loosing altitude faster than it was safe, trying to make it there, when, Chrysta gasped harshly over the radio,

"CHAOS do NOT interfere!"

Flaring his wings wide, the demon shot over the two as the woman rolled gracefully to her feet, eyes never leaving the silver who had made his turn and was charging back. Chrysta crouched slightly and sidestepped as he reached her, avoiding those snapping jaws. As the General's speed carried him past, she stepped forward, one hand burying itself the flying white mane and one hand catching the harness that held the sword. The stallion's forward momentum jerked her off of her feet and up. With a quick twist of her hips, the rider landed back in the saddle. The General screamed his frustration as she wrestled him around and put him back on the path.

As they topped the ridge, Chaos made a pass that put him close enough to feel the heat coming off of the stallion. He could see that Chrysta's mail seemed to have protected her a little but the sound of her breathing in the transmitter was ragged, and her movements as she kept up with the General's constant antics had lost their fluidity. The demon lifted, than dropped in a slow curving glide over the valley. There were three riders far enough ahead on the course that the dust of their passing was just starting to settle. A couple of driving thrusts with his wings and the demon gained some altitude and turned back just as the General shook his head violently and slid to a stop. Chrysta stuck with him this time, her hiss of pain ending in a sharp, gurgling cough. Chaos was hurtling back when he realized that the silver was just standing, nostrils flaring as his sides heaved for breath, looking over Paradise Valley.

The dark lord heard Chrysta murmur,

"There, you dumb ass, THAT is what you are well on your way to losing."

Shifting all four reins to one hand, the rider worked at getting the pouch at her side open with the other. Chaos folded his wings and rolled so he was moving backwards through the air, when his speed dropped to almost zero, his wings opened so he could hover. Chrysta had her hand over her mouth her body slightly doubled as she coughed again. Her green eyes caught the demon's concerned gold ones, she shook her head slightly and smiled. Then The woman re-arranged the reins in her hands, and tried to turn the big silver back to the path. The General resisted for a moment, his intelligent green eyes studying the valley. That icy gaze drifted over to the hovering form of the demon lord and then the massive head twisted back to analyze the physical condition of the woman on his back. Chrysta stared him down. If she was worried about her ability to stick with the big animal, she didn't show it. The massive head snaked back around and the stallion suddenly reared, his guttural challenge echoing over the peaceful valley. Those mighty front hoofs didn't even return to earth before the beast twisted and launched himself into a driving gallop.

* * *

;) Think we are going to make the deadline of Christmas EVE!


	32. Chapter 32

This is a fanfiction...Square Enix holds all rights to FFVII.

To Race the Wild Wind Ch. 32

Chaos shot ahead of the pair, the other riders had stayed on the longer, easier path, not wanting to risk the unknown in Splatter canyon. Gliding back the winged one realized that the General's gallop had changed. He wasn't fighting his rider's hands every step of the way and as a result his stride had become longer, more fluid. Some of the true speed that Chrysta had known that the stallion was capable of was coming through. With each huge oily stride the rogue covered a little more ground. Chrysta was still holding him back; trying to make sure he had the stamina to finish strong. She had been given a little bit of a respite and had gotten her breathing settled back to a more normal rhythm.

The woman turned the silver down the lower path and as she did her head snapped up, eyes narrowing.

"Chaos, something's not right at the entrance to the canyon."

The demon raced ahead and as he gained altitude he realized that there was a small group of racers blocking the path. It looked like they had found some of the ringers.

Chaos snarled softly,

"IT SEEMS THEY HAVE PLANNED AN AMBUSH TO STOP YOU AND THE GENERAL."

"Shit!" then softly, "How many can you see?" Chrysta had slowed the stallion considerably.

The demon lord's unnaturally sharp eyes made a quick head count,

"LOOKS LIKE THERE IS SIX OF THEM. ALL ARE ARMED WITH WHAT LOOKS LIKE SMALL ARMS."

"Really…no rifles?,"

The woman actually smiled. It was a wicked, nasty smile. It reminded the demon of the evil grin that the General sent his way at the start of the race. "Well that is just THEIR tough luck isn't it."

The rider drew her sidearm and with a quick flip of her wrist opened the chamber, checked that it was fully loaded and then flipped it closed.

"Let's hope this bad boy remembers the battle training Sephiroth gave him."

The demon flinched as Chrysta dropped her reins across the thick neck, controlling the silver with her legs and body alone. The General knew something was up and his deep, rumbling moan promised violence. The black and crimson sword whispered out of its sheath, seeming to become an extension of Chrysta's right hand. Now Chaos understood why she had trained herself to shoot with her offhand.

She shot a glance up at the winged shadow above her.

"You know, the rules state that you can't PHYSICALLY interfere with the race, it says nothing about not scaring the shit out of them."

Chaos's grin was just as wicked as hers as he shot up, climbing hard and fast. When he was far enough up that he wouldn't alarm the group the demon traveled parallel to the bluff that the canyon split. As Chrysta and the General broke out of cover and roared down the path, Chaos could see the other riders drawing their weapons, holding their fire until the pair came into range. Chaos rolled, folded his wings down to leave just enough wing surface for control and dropped into a stoop, starting his run along the bluff.

One minute, the waiting men were confidently watching the silver stallion's charge, knowing that they had the advantage in numbers. In the next, a savage roar from their left had them looking, then screaming, as they jockeyed to try and get away from the black winged nightmare that was rocketing towards them on the wind.

The ploy worked, instead of running into the fire of six guns, the silver was fired upon by only two. The others frantically turned their weapons on Chaos. The demon felt the tug and pain of a couple of bullets but such was his speed, as he flared his wings with a sharp CRACK and rolled over the ambushers, that most of the lead missed.

The General held his great, ridged, horned head low. It served as a shield to protect his vulnerable neck and chest. He came in fast, ducking and dodging, responding to Chrysta's signals like a well trained battle mount. Chrysta's deadly sword rippled like black edged flame, in a move reminiscent of Sephiroth as she deflected the other shots that the men had time to fire. Her gun sang out three times, aimed on the run. Two bodies flipped off of their mounts and one destria reared, twisting and screaming, unseating its rider. The others had no time to re-group as a screaming, slashing juggernaut plowed into their midst.

One destria went down, the impact taking it clean off of its feet, Its unlucky rider had the misfortune of his face meeting with the General's massive front hoof. He did not get up. The second rider managed to turn his mount and brought his hand gun slamming down at Chrysta's head. She caught it on the edge of her sword and as she deflected it, she slashed sideways with the blades that were on her gun hand's greaves. The man's throat opened and he twisted away trying to staunch the flowing blood with his hands. She also lashed out with her foot driving those sharp blades into the side of the man's destria, who had slammed against the General, snapping and slashing with long black fangs. Squalling, the animal fell back. The third stallion made the unwise mistake of engaging the General in battle. Both animals reared shoulder to shoulder, each trying to unbalance the other as their fang filled mouths snapped at each other. The General ducked sideways and the other beast overbalanced and staggered. The rider whipped his gun around trying to get a bead on the vulnerable soft neck behind the silver's ridge, and Chrysta's gun cracked one more time. The bullet peeled the man out of the saddle. The other stallion tried to disengage but the enraged General's black horns hooked under his soft jaw, ripping through muscles and arteries, then lifting the entire front half of the animal and slamming him down. The stallion went to savage the fallen destria but Chrysta drove her heels into his sides, her strong legs forcing him to continue on into the canyon.

Splatter canyon was aptly named. Sheer rock walls rose up on either side of the rolling river. The current ran swift and deep. There was a narrow path that had been cut into the cliff on the right, providing a treacherous passage along the gorge.

Chaos soared, trying to find some lift. He did not like the narrow claustrophobic confines of the canyon. The racing pair was climbing as he passed. Chrysta sheathed the sword and he admired the skill it took to slide the slender blade home while the sheath and the rider were moving. She also holstered the gun as she directed the running stallion up the path.

"YOU NEED TO RE-LOAD."

Chaos knew that was a basic gunman's rule.

"I need to watch were we are going more!"

Was the breathless response that came over the transmitter. The pair was moving at a remarkable pace, fifty feet above the rolling river. Chrysta had the four reins gathered back in both hands and her upper body was positioned forward over the massive silver shoulders, helping to brace and balance the big animal on the rough path. She kept her gaze firmly ahead, looking for obstacles. The demon did not see her glance even once at the river below.

They came around a bend and the path disappeared. Chrysta had time for "SHIT!" as she tried to rein the General in. The big silver shook his head and grabbed the bit between black fangs. He continued on without slackening his pace. Chaos could have sworn the animal was part mountain goat as he flowed from ledge to rock to bare bump across the rock face. His hooves were slipping and sliding sending rocks rolling into the river below.

Chrysta kept up a litany of, "CRAP, SON of a BITCH, SHIT!" all the way across as the silver made it back to a solid path. The General smiled a wicked destria smile and pounded on.

The woman was very quiet, the only sound coming through the transmitter was her harsh gasps and an occasional grunt as she shifted with her mount. The demon lord passed almost level with them when they were one hundred feet above the river, and she spared him a quick glance. Those green eyes were dark with fear, her jaws clenching and unclenching. The demon lord remembered she had a real fear of heights. The path leveled out a little and the General's stride opened up again. Chaos found himself having to work to avoid obstacles and to keep up.

The path had started to drop back towards the roiling water when a rock shattered at head level with the woman and she flinched sideways in reaction.

"What the hell was that?"

The General grunted and jerked sideways as something impacted on the snake mail covering his thick neck and sparks flew as it ricocheted.

"SNIPER!"

Chaos was looking but couldn't see anything on the opposite cliff. They couldn't hear any gunshots. Evidently the hidden gunner figured out that the mail would stop a regular round because with the next, the armor across the silver's rump jumped, then split and a red furrow streaked across the thick muscle. The stallion screamed in protest.

"GODS! Those are armor piercing rounds! Chaos… that side is NOT part of the course, FIND him!"

The woman knew that they had no way to hide.

Chaos had been scanning the cliffs, but still couldn't pinpoint the sniper's location. His head snapped around as Chrysta grunted and jerked back, the mail along her ribs rippled.

"SHIT!"

With out hesitation, the woman jerked the big stallion's head sideways and rode him, hell bent, right off of the cliff. The General dropped, hit the water, and promptly… sank. Chaos flew low, ignoring the threat from above, desperately looking for the pair to surface. He saw that long silver head break the surface for a moment, green eyes rolling, then disappear. The General was heavy boned, not designed as a great swimmer and the weight of his armor was dragging him down. Pain shot through Chaos' wing, dangerously close to the bone. He snarled and pumped to gain altitude as a bullet skimmed across his back,

"THERE!" This time he was at the right angle that he could see the flash of the silenced rifle.

Chaos headed for the spot, picking up speed with every powerful wing stroke. He shot along the river then soared up. As he passed the gunner on the cliff, the winged nightmare reached out and plucked him off with little effort. He continued to climb, rising above the canyon, and out over the flat tops of the bluff. The man had screamed once, and as the demon lord reached the top of his climb he drew his victim up to were the man could get a good look at the grey, golden eyed, face of death.

It was the blond ex-Turk and he was babbling in fear,

"Oh man, Oh man, its nothing personal. I am just doing my job. DON'T kill me I was just following orders. Valentine was a Turk, he would understand… following orders!"

Chaos hissed softly,

"WELL…. YES, VINCENT WOULD UNDERSTAND." The words deepened to an angry growl. "YOUR PROBLEM IS… I…AM NOT VALENTINE."

The demon rolled and dropped into a steep dive, strong arms turning the man so he could see the ground coming at them. At the last moment, at top speed, he released the screaming man while snapping his wings open with a sound like a gunshot. The man continued on his trip to the ground while Chaos's own winged form shot up. The laws of momentum and gravity gave the body a very satisfying crunch when it drilled into the hard ground.

Chaos glided fast over the ground, bleeding off speed, then he dropped over the edge diving back into the canyon. Golden eyes searched frantically for any trace of silver or crimson and finally spotted the stallion struggling in the rough water. Chrysta's head popped up along side the destria and there was a flash of sunlight on wet metal. She was cutting every bit of armor off of the drowning beast, trying to lighten the load. They finally made it to where the path dipped down low enough that the General managed to pull himself out. The woman was holding to the sword harness and she dropped to curl on her side on the bank. The sound of her coughing and retching was clear over the transmitter.

Chaos was still to far away to help when the General swung his massive head down hooking with those long, sharp horns. He caught the woman just below the waist, twisted a little and lifted. This did two things, one, the pressure helped her expel a lot of the water from her lungs that her cracked ribs prevented her from coughing out. And two, it scooped her up so she could get her feet under her and lean against the animal's large, warm side. The woman was still coughing as the stallion pushed her with his nose towards the stirrup, HE wanted to get under way. Chrysta dragged herself back into the saddle and glanced as Chaos winged by. She pumped her fist once, and the battle stallion surged forwards again in a hard gallop. The pair reached the end of the canyon, and there were two other racers in sight. Chaos realized that they were at the point that he needed break off and return to the town. He dropped over the flying beast.

"I HAVE GOT TO LEAVE NOW! ARE YOU OKAY?"

He was more than concerned when Chrysta didn't seem to have the breath to answer. She just lifted one hand and twirled it then pointed it towards home, letting him know she had heard him. With a savage snarl the demon shot up and rocketed towards the town. He wanted to give Valentine the time he would need to be fully awake when she finished this run.


	33. Chapter 33

This is a fanfiction...Square Enix holds all rights to FFVII.

To Race the Wild Wind CH. 33

"VINCENT…"

One deep rumbling voice worried at him.

"Valentine. You have to wake up!"

Grants lighter baritone also intruded along with sharp stabbing pain. They both took turns annoying him. The voices came from inside and out, forcing him towards reluctant awareness. Realization flooded back and the gunman jerked himself awake, blinking in the late afternoon sun. Chaos had deposited him on the roof of the Ironwood. Grant was crouched next to him; the Inn keeper had been using painful pressure points to force him awake. The big man helped him to sit up.

Valentine could not suppress the groan as his abused body protested violently,

"Damn Chaos what did you do to me this time?"

"I AM SORRY….. VALENTINE. WE RAN INTO SOME ….DIFFICULTIES AND A COUPLE OF BULLETS…."

The demon was tired, his tone was infinitely weary.

The gunman frowned and managed to lever himself to his feet. Grant was searching the distance outside of town with a long range scanner.

Andrew handed the ex-Turk the transmitter, and smiled nervously,

"She should be back in range any minute.

Vincent listened to it but heard nothing but static. He joined the two in scanning the race course.

"There they are!"

Grant handed the viewer to the gunman. He could just make out a group of three riders at its maximum range. They were still too far out to decipher any detail, when the transmitter crackled to life.

"Is anybody out there?"

The signal was faint, but Chrysta's exhaustion carried through. What had Vincent's crimson eyes narrowing though was the soft, bubbling cough that followed.

"We can hear and see you."

The ex-Turk kept physically calm on the outside but inside was another story.

"WHAT the hell happened out there Chaos?"

The demon stirred and gave the man a terse, abbreviated description of the long day's events. He finished with,

"I TOOK THE LIBERTY OF HAVING GRANT CALL A COUPLE OF YOUR…FRIENDS…. I THINK WE ARE GOING TO NEED THEM."

The three racing destria were now close enough that the gunman could see that Diego's gold was in the lead, the grey that was the defending champion struggled gamely in second and the General was a little further back, each stride closing the distance on the other two. Chrysta could hardly be seen, so buried was she in the flying white mane. Even as he watched, the General pulled up along side the grey. The storm colored animal somehow lengthened his stride and for a minute they ran side by side, nose to nose. The grey had won the previous year for a reason; he was not one to give up easily.

Valentine heard a solid thump through the transmitter, and Chrysta cursed harshly as the two stallions bumped together hard, jarring both riders. The General peeled foam covered lips back from long black fangs. Twisting his massive head a little he pinned the grey with one ice green feral eye. Whatever the grey saw in there, it was enough that he slowed and veered sideways, fighting his rider's control.

The gunman listened to Chrysta's quick uneven gasps and her breathless words of encouragement as she egged the tired stallion on.

The woman cleared her throat with another wet, bubbling, cough, and sounded a little stronger,

"Tell Andrew that the General is really overheating. He needs to have Joshua and Jeremy READY the minute we get there."

Vincent relayed the message and Andrew went scrambling off the roof. After a couple of minutes he hollered up at them,

"Come on, we have to meet her at the paddocks."

The gunman looked over the edge; the young man was mounted on one Drafter, with Zephyr, Nuva and the other big boy in tow. Grant jumped down behind Andrew, and Zephyr lined himself up so that Vincent could drop down on him. No sooner was he settled and Andrew had them moving down the street to the destria compound where the race would end. They could see the full length of the two mile main street from the large enclosure that had been designated for Chrysta's mount. The sound of the crowd swelled as the racers came into sight.

Diego's gold was ahead. Chrysta flattened down a little more and Vincent could see her hands moving in time to the General's huge stride. They were working together and the battle stallion dug in and was flying low. As the pair pulled along side the leader, Rave struck out, catching the silver across the face with his whip. The General moaned hoarsely, ducking away.

The crowd screamed as the gold and the silver pounded together along the street. Their white manes and tails billowed and flowed, mingling together in the wind of their passing. Both stallions were straining, at full stretch. Steam rolled off of their super heated bodies and foam flew from both, as the General closed until they were neck to neck.

Valentine all of a sudden understood why Chrysta believed that the beasts descended from dragons. Little flickers of flame had started to appear, snorting out of flaring nostrils with each straining breath. Rave stuck at the face of the silver stallion again and the General coughed out an angry scream. The third time he struck, Chrysta's sword whispered from the sheath and was there to block it.

The two animals slammed together, and the silver faltered. Vincent's twist of fear joined Chaos', as Chrysta lost her seat for a split second. The stallion gave a funny twist as he recovered his balance that put his rider back in the saddle. Rave struck back at Chrysta and she had to twist painfully to block the whip. The General fell back a fraction and his huge fanged mouth reached out grabbing the red head by the thigh. The battle beast jerked. It forced the screaming Rave to drop his whip, and he grabbed on to his mount's mane. The silver couldn't hold on, the mouthful of leg was interfering with his breathing and he had to spit it out.

The racers were even, one hundred yards from the finish line when the Gold suddenly faltered, then recovered. Rave was slashing him with sharp spurs, driving him on. Blood had started to stain the foam flying from the lovely beast's mouth. Vincent saw Chrysta's green eyes slash sideways and she did something that caused the General to drift out a little. As a result… the gold nosed ahead for a moment. Then the beautiful dappled stallion gave an odd grunt as something inside him gave. Blood flooded from his nostrils and this time when he faltered he didn't recover. The racer seemed to pancake, front legs stretched forward, back legs stuck behind. He slid along the street on his chest and belly, digging a furrow in the dirt. As the golden body came to a stop his rider baled off with a curse. The heat from the animal seemed to concentrate, to…compress, and then, with a muted whump, the dying beast spontaneously combusted. Chrysta had the General past the flaming corpse and over the finish line in the next few strides.

The crowd was yelling and applauding but they stayed well back. The General slowed as he approached the paddock and his rider was sliding off even before he stopped. They had won, but the stallion had severely overextended himself. He staggered a couple of feet and dropped to his front knees. His nose was almost buried in the dirt as his sides heaved. Vincent could feel the intense heat rolling off of the stressed animal and could not help but wonder of the silver would share the fate of Rave's gold. Chrysta was gasping, almost as bad, but she didn't rest. She was stripping the tack off as Andrew threw buckets of water over the steaming beast.

The woman frantically grabbed the reins trying to pull the faltering destria to his feet.

"Come on!…. GET up! Joshua… Jeremy…. GET HIM UP!"

The two drafters rolled forward, positioning themselves on either side of the General. Dropping their massive heads they hooked their blunted horns together under the stallion's foaming neck and jaw like a basket. Using the incredible strength of their thick necks and massive shoulders they heaved him up. Pinning the staggering stallion between their heavy bodies, they forced the General to take one step… then two. Andrew was pouring water over the three, trying to bring that terrible heat under control.

Chrysta was still in front coaxing and cajoling the silver as he took one shaky step at a time. Vincent and Grant formed a united front keeping the crowd back and away from the paddock. Don Ricardo finally showed up and managed to get most of the crowd to disperse to the victory celebration. In a very short time the only sound was the General's whistling breaths, Chrysta's soft murmured encouragements and her occasional soft cough. As the stallion became steadier, she signaled Andrew to stop the water and took the bridle off of the massive head.

The tired woman backed away, letting Nuva and Zephyr come in to help the drafters keep the stallion walking. Chrysta bent forwards, coughing violently. She turned towards Vincent and her white skin combined with the blood around her mouth had both men running towards her. They didn't reach her before her strength gave out and she collapsed into the dirt.

Vincent reached her first and was surprised when Chrysta fought him as he tried to roll her on her back. Damn it.. he needed to check the damage.

Chaos snapped out,

"VALENTINE…. SHE CAN"T BREATH LYING LIKE THAT.

Vincent shifted her up so she was half sitting against his bent leg. Her breathing eased a little.

The man cut her armor off, and stopped at the woman's slight snicker. Her eyes flicked open,

"GODS valentine what is with you and CUTTING off my clothes!"

Vincent managed a slight smile and brushed a knuckle along her cheek…

Then…

he reached to cut the dirtied, bloodied shirt and wrappings off.

Grant stopped him.

"Don't…. I think it's the only thing holding her together right now."

The gunman gave a terse nod and let Chaos come forward as they checked over the damage. Some of the ribs had that grinding feel that meant they had definitely splintered, probably causing some internal damage. The fact that Chrysta kept coughing up small amounts of blood verified this. There was also a bleeding hole on her lower left side where the sniper's round had penetrated her snake mail.

Chaos breathed a silent sigh of relief,

"THERE IS NOTHING THAT I CAN…SEE….THAT A GOOD SURGEON CAN'T DEAL WITH. YOU NEED TO CALL YOUR AIR RIDING FRIEND AND FIND OUT HOW FAR OUT HE IS."

The gunman speed dialed Cid. The pilot picked up on the first ring and Chrysta's eyes popped open in surprise at the language that poured out of the device. Vincent winced and held the phone away from his ear.

"Damn it Vince, where the Fricken HELL have you been? Yuffie has been up my Fucking ass because NOBODY has heard from your sorry, skinny BUTT for a Friggen WEEK"

The man hardly paused for breath,

"Then some JACK ASS calls, demanding I make a GODS BE DAMNED delivery….DO I look like a flippin delivery BOY? …AND… he has the mother Fucking set of brass balls to THREATEN me with that fuck winged bat from HELL that lurks inside you."

Chaos muttered,

"I DO NOT LURK!"

"Shut up CID!" amazingly the pilot did. Something in the ex-Turk's voice brought his tirade to a halt. Vincent continued, knowing he had the blonde's attention.

"Tell me how much longer until your arrival time?"

Highwind was silent a moment,

"Approximately one hour, we are fighting one HELL of a head wind. Are you shitten okay?"

"I am fine, Cid, but someone… I… care about, isn't."

Vincent spoke in almost a whisper.

He heard the rough pilot swear at someone, and admonish them that he didn't Fricken care what concerns they had, then he came back on.

"Forty five minutes TOPS… Valentine."

As he hung up the phone Chrysta reached up and tapped his chest, she kept her eyes shut. Vincent slipped her hand into his flesh one.

"It's okay Chrysta, we have help on the way, you will be fine."

She coughed softly, and then smiled sadly.

"Do you want to hear the good news first or the bad?"

Vincent had a sudden feeling of dread.

"Hnnn, good news is always appreciated."

The woman smiled at him and Vincent's heart stopped at the sadness he saw reflected in her eyes.

"I started chewing dreamleaf at the beginning of the race, and right at this moment, I really don't hurt at all."

Chaos hissed,

"I….KNEW….YOU WERE MOVING TO EASILY. THAT….IS NOT GOOD NEWS."

She flinched at the anger in the deep rumbling voice,

"Well… it is better than the bad news."

Vincent looked into the green eyes; her pupils had shrunk down to pin points.

"What is the bad news?"

She sighed,

"I swallowed a whole shit load of it back there along with half of the river,."

* * *

hehehehe cliff hanger!


	34. Chapter 34

This is a fanfiction...Square Enix holds all rights to FFVII.

To Race the Wild Wind CH. 34

"You what…?"

It came out a stunned whisper. Vincent remembered Chaos being very clear that you NEVER actually ingest the leaf. If the dead silence from the darkness within, didn't fill him with foreboding. The stricken look on Grant's face did.

The gunman dug at the demon, Chaos had become not only very quiet, but very still.

"So…how do you treat an overdose?"

The demon lord growled unhappily.

"YOU DON'T!"

The ex-Turk's heart froze.

"Grant, maybe you should get Dr. Whitet?"

The big bartender shook his head slowly,

"He won't be any help, by now he is plastered. He would have to sedate her into a coma to avoid what's coming, and this town doesn't have the type of life support equipment that requires."

The gunman glanced down at the quiet, pale woman he had cradled against his chest.

"Chaos, what are we dealing with?"

The demon rumbled quietly,

"Any time now, Chrysta is going to start seizing. It will get progressively worse and it won't stop until something, most likely her heart, gives out. Given the condition she is in…." Chaos hummed softly in misery. "Ah Valentine…your friend is not going to make it here in time."

Vincent didn't have a chance to respond in any way. He felt an odd tremor pass through Chrysta and her eyes flickered open.

"Oh GODS….."She whimpered, "Any one of you can shoot me now."

Her pupils blew until they covered the green, making the woman's eyes seem solid black. Then she arced against him, muscles jumping and quivering. This first one only lasted a few seconds but he could feel Chrysta's heart hammering and stuttering against his chest when it ended.

As she slowly relaxed, Chaos gently prompted the gunman,

"YOU NEED TO MAKE SURE THAT SHE DOESN'T"T BITE HER TONGUE."

Nodding numbly, the ex-Turk used sharp claws to slice a strip off of the thick leather of the gun belt that held her beautiful gun. Her eyelids fluttered open at the sound and he knew the woman was at least partially aware of her surroundings when her brow arched up and her lips quirked as if to say, "what….now you are CUTTING my clothes into PIECES?"

Green eyes widened a little at the strange feel of his fingers in her mouth as he gently pried her jaw open, pushed her tongue down and closed her teeth on the leather. The gunman cupped his flesh hand firmly under her chin so she couldn't accidentally spit it out.

Again the only warning Vincent got was Chaos's terse, "GET READY," And that odd tremor. This time the seizure lasted longer and when it was finished, he had to roll the woman to the side so that Grant could clear the frothy blood from her airway before she choked.

When the gunman braced Chrysta back against his chest this time, she was unresponsive.

"There has got to be SOMETHING we can do to help her."

Vincent did not like being in the position of total helplessness.

Chaos rumbled a deep sigh,

"VALENTINE, YOU ARE NOT GOING TO LIKE THIS BUT THERE IS ONLY ONE WAY FOR THIS TO END. WE COULD MAKE IT EASIER ON CHRYSTA… AND HELP HER TO THE LIFESTREAM."

Vincent realized what the demon was suggesting and his arms tightened unconsciously around the woman,

"I can't do that Chaos!"

"NO…I KNOW YOU CAN"T." The demon's voice was very soft. "BUT I… CAN."

The third seizure hit, this time with very little break in between. Vincent could feel Chrysta's ribs grinding as Grant helped and they struggled hold her. As her body slowly relaxed, the racing heart faltered, and skipped. Vincent knew she couldn't last the remaining half hour it would take for Cid to reach them. The gunman felt Nuva lay down behind him and realized he could hear both her and Zephyr crooning. Chrysta's heart rate steadied and strengthened.

A familiar itch built behind his eyes. "_**Dark fire….we hold her here, but we cannot shield her."**_Nuva sounded…strained._ "__**One must stay and hold, the other must join with us."**_

Vincent hesitated, confused. He gave a quick run down of what the mare was saying to Grant.

Andrew overheard and came forwards; the young man was in tears.

"I think she means you need to change. When you become that… demon thing, your consciousness goes… elsewhere…They want YOU to go with them and leave the demon form here,

Nuva nudged the ex-Turk's shoulder." _**The shadow… knows… his heart, he must be the anchor. The flame will be the shield**_**."**

Valentine felt the odd tremor that preceded a seizure and didn't hesitate. He faded back as Chaos pushed forwards. Before he totally gave up control, he gave a warning.

"CHAOS…. You need to let this play out to the end, don't you do anything… PERMANENT… No matter what happens!"

"UNDERSTOOD!" the demon growled, "NOW HURRY!"

As he finished the change, Chaos was hard pressed to hold the woman's convulsing body without hurting her. He wrapped his wings around her tight, like a full length blanket and used their strength to keep her from tearing herself up inside.

This seizure did not want to let up and the destria's croon seemed to pick up a desperate note. The demon snarled softly.

"COME ON VALENTINE, WHATEVER YOU ARE GOING TO DO, YOU NEED TO DO IT NOW!"

Chaos came to the realization that for the first time since he had been implanted, he could not feel his human host at all. Valentine was gone.

Vincent found himself floating in the velvet blackness as he had before when Nuva had spoken to him. His silver chain twisted and spun before him and he noticed that the black strand was gone. Looking back he could see the gleaming black gem forming the anchor at the end of the chain. All the red fire was gone from the stone and he realized that instead of having a body, he manifested here as a flowing scarlet mist that glimmered and gleamed like a crimson flame.

Up ahead, the darkness was lit by the rolling, green river of the life stream. The essence that was Chrysta was trying to reach it, but was being prevented by a wall of woven blue on gold energy. Even as the ex-Turk approached, Chrysta was under attack by what looked like nothing more than a carpet of crackling lightening. This hostile force rolled over her diamond like essence, energy tendrils striking and crawling over it, knocking loose small wisps of sparkling light and vaporizing them when they couldn't escape to the green river on the other side.

Vincent increased his speed, like hell if he was going to stand by while someone he cared for was hurt… AGAIN. He interposed his essence between hers and the lightning. With the first strike, he realized that the licking bolts were made out of intense, fiery pain. Feeling her roll underneath him and try to break for the life stream again, he ….tightened…. his essence until it formed a shield of crimson fire that she couldn't escape. The fiery bolts still penetrated and passed through him, but his energy insulated hers, absorbing a lot of the terrible pain before it could reach her.

The man's time under the "tender" hands of Hojo had taught him all he would ever need to know about… enduring. He closed his mind and hunkered down. Vincent would ride this out and protect her until either Cid made it, or they both burned down to nothingness.

Chaos breathed a small sigh of relief when the woman he cradled in his arms and wings stopped convulsively thrashing. Small tremors still ran through her body, but whatever his Host and her destria were doing, it was helping. Grant cleared Chrysta's airway again and wiped the blood off of her face.

When the big man went to return the leather to her mouth, the demon stopped him,

"I DON'T THINK WE WILL NEED THAT NOW. SHE WILL BREATH EASIER WITHOUT IT."

Andrew came forward, and gave the bartender a clean towel and a new strip of leather, just in case. He flinched when the demon lord shot him a cold, gold eyed glare.

"THIS …DEMON THING….HAS A NAME, IT IS CHAOS. YOU DO NOT HAVE ANY EXCUSE AFTER THIS, TO CALL ME BY ANYTHING OTHER THAN THAT!"

The young man swallowed hard and nodded.

They sat as the dark of night descended, the two destria, the two men, and one large dark demon cradling the quiet woman, not knowing what a….odd… sight they made. Twenty minutes had passed when Grant's phone rang.

Chaos could hear the crude mouth of the air pilot, and the sounds of alarms." GODS be DAMNED, I don't care WHAT the fuck is causing it…. Fricken FIX IT!" And then, "We are just outside of the shit hole you call a town, Give me some kinda damned signal so I can find your sorry asses!"

Chaos had already calculated that IF the pilot was as good as he maintained, he should be able to set his ship down on the field that held the race track. It would be a tight fit, but it was very close to where they were. Pumping one closed fist into the air, the demon lord released a burst of energy, giving the pilot a flare of sorts. A few seconds later the roar of the great airships engines filled the air.

Cid's voice came over the phone.

"Holy SHIT! Why don't ya just give me a shitten postage stamp to land on.?"

Chaos motioned at the phone and Grant held it up for him,

"SHUT UP…HIGHWIND. RETRIEVE YOUR BALLS FROM WHERE THEY ARE HIDING AND LAND THAT THING. WE ARE RUNNING OUT OF TIME HERE."

There was absolute silence on the other end, then,

"Uh shit…Vince?"

Chaos snarled.

"IT IS VINCENT…NOT VINCE… AND NO….THIS IS CHAOS."

"Oh…well… where the hell is Vinc….um..ent?" The pilot was delicately maneuvering the ship down as he spoke.

"VINCENT IS…OCCUPIED AT THE MOMENT. NOW SHUT UP, AND PAY ATTENTION TO WHAT YOU ARE DOING!"

Chaos had real concerns for the buildings at the far end of the track. Even the General raised his weary head to watch with interest.

As the ship settled, Chaos had to give the foul mouthed, brash human a degree of respect. He managed to set the big airship down without touching any of the structures that were just inches away in a couple of places. The demon sighed; Vincent would NEVER hear the end of it from the obnoxious man.

"There is a damned medical bay set up in my forward cargo hold. The doc's Reeves sent are already heading out."

Yep, the man's cigarette hoarsened voice was definitely sounding smug.

The small group met the medics halfway. Again, the demon lord had to admit that some humans seemed to have more than their share of courage, (or foolishness) as the physician in the lead paled, but didn't flinch as Chaos laid the woman's still body on the stretcher.

The stars caught his golden eyes as he stepped back and the sound of Grant explaining what was going on deadened, as the demon realized he was looking at his freedom. All he had to do was break the chain that led and tethered Valentine back to his body. The gunman would have no choice but to enter the life stream and Chaos would be free of him. The demon lord rationalized that this is what Vincent had wished for since he was first implanted. The human would have his heart's desire and so would he.

"C-Chaos?"

A soft hesitant voice, and a warm hand touching his wing, pulled the dark lord out of his thoughts. Andrew was beside him, trying to push him forward to follow, as the medical group made their way to the ship. The doctor's were already pushing sedatives into Chrysta and were inserting an airway for her on the run.

Chaos slashed a hard golden eyed glare at the young man, and lifted his lips in a savage snarl.

The man paled but held his ground.

"You need to go with her, she will need you when she wakes up."

Whether he knew it or not, Andrew's hand was slowly (OH MY GODS! His reputation was RUINED when young men were so unafraid that they dared to PET him!) stroking that dark soft wing.

The fire died in the golden eyes that stared into the young man's face. Chaos realized that the courageous youth was right, and Nuva had KNOWN what she was talking about when she had said that the …shadow knows its heart… it must be the anchor.

The demon sent his consciousness spinning down that fragile silver chain.. He could…see… that the ex-Turk was nearing the end of his strength and although the storm was weakening and dying, Vincent might not have the ability to return on his own. The demon sent a tendril of dark strength to the gunman's essence and sluggishly the crimson glow condensed, linked up, and allowed the demon lord to tow it back.

Chaos noticed as they withdrew, that the destria's wall was fading, Nuva and Zephyr were retreating, their strength almost spent. The subdued gleaming essence that was Chrysta did not stir towards the life stream. The brilliant scintillating colors were gone, the gem only softly glowing. She was being held to life by artificial means now.

Chaos reached the medical bay just as the doctors whisked the comatose woman off to surgery. Infinite weariness filled the demon lords limbs, but before he allowed the shift, he turned to the young man at his side.

The demon held Andrew with a stern gaze,

"VALENTINE IS GOING TO BE IN ROUGH SHAPE WHEN HE AWAKES. DO…NOT….UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCE ALLOW THE WHITE COATS TO ….HANDLE….HIM. THAT COULD GET MESSY FAST. DO YOU UNDERSTAND?"

Andrew, wide eyed just nodded.

With a sigh of relief, Chaos allowed the shift. Grant and Andrew gently caught the limp, pale form of Vincent Valentine as he collapsed onto their arms.


	35. Chapter 35

This is a fanfiction...Square Enix holds all rights to FFVII.

To Race the Wild Wind CH. 35

Vincent woke to darkness and, to him, the terrifying sounds and smells of the medical profession. He was lying on a bed in a small curtained off alcove. The gunman could hear the sound of people arguing. As he listened he forced his tired body to relax, fighting the natural instinct to get the hell out of there.

He could identify Andrew's voice. The young stable hand sounded angry but was making an effort to keep his volume down.

"I don't care who you are I have… ORDERS… to not let ANY Doctors mess with him." Vincent heard the young man mutter, "And the person who gave me that order is a HELL of a lot scarier than you!"

The gunman managed to lever his protesting body out of the bed. He picked Cerberus out of its holster and wavering over, he silently stuck his head through the curtain. Andrew had his back to him, and was preventing a medic from passing. The medic had two burly interns with him and was threatening to have them remove the young man.

The ex-Turk was quietly amused when Andrew snorted derisively and his body took on a fighting stance. He looked and sounded fierce enough that the orderly's hesitated.

"Listen, asshole! I deal with two thousand pound, hoofed, horned, fanged, meat eating devils with poisonous spurs, every day for a living and I am still here to tell you about it! If you really THINK you can get by me… bring it on."

Vincent lifted the big gun and aimed it in their direction. The two interns paled when they got a good look down the triple barrels. The gunman put his finger to his lips and motioned slightly with the long handgun, indicating that they should leave. The men complied with haste. Andrew relaxed his aggressive stance with a soft, tired sigh.

The ex-Turk had managed to make his shaky way halfway back to the bed when Andrew appeared at his side and wrapped a strong arm around him to help the rest of the way. He eased the gunman back down on the bed, all the while admonishing him that Vincent should in no way be trying to get up, until he got some rest. The gunman's lips quirked, what was with Chrysta that she attracted men with over developed mother hen tendencies? At this thought, his memory of the past day's events flooded in and he struggled to sit back up against Andrew's remarkably strong hands.

The gunman was a little surprised to find he was so weak that the young man managed to pin him on the bed.

"Damn it! Valentine, listen! Chrysta isn't even out of surgery yet. Chaos said that you would need to REST."

Vincent was exhausted, in no small amount of pain, stressed by being even close to a medical bay, and he reacted mostly out of instinct. Andrew froze, breathless, as Cerberus's cold, triple bores pressed against his temple.

"VALENTINE…..BACK OFF! I LIKE THIS BOY, HE HAS….SPUNK!."

Chaos had become aware of what was happening and he managed to freeze Vincent's muscles before he did anything…extreme. His deep growl softened.

"I AM WEARY; YOUR STRENGTH IS TOTALLY DRAINED, PLEASE… GO…TO…SLEEP...!"

Andrew must have seen something flicker in the ex-Turk's eyes; he slowly reached up and sliding his hand down the barrels of the big gun, eased it away from his head. He managed to catch the heavy weapon as Vincent let his suddenly limp hand fall. The stable hand could tell the gunfighter was fighting the overwhelming need to sleep.

He carefully patted that lean, long fingered hand.

"It's okay, between Grant, Captain Highwind, and myself, NOBODY is going to disturb you. I will personally make sure you are awake when they bring Chrysta out."

The young man's eyes never left the tired, pale face. He breathed a silent prayer of thanks when Vincent's long black eyelashes fluttered down to cover the beautiful crimson and gold eyes. The man was finally asleep.

It was a total of eight hours before the surgery team was finished. It was another two before they considered the injured woman stable enough that they were willing to allow anyone to see her. Andrew ignored his exhaustion, staying so he could be with the Captain when they cautiously woke the ex-Turk up.

The head of the surgery team met them before they reached the curtained partition that held Chrysta's bed and the myriad of life support machines that were attached to her. Grant rather belatedly joined them.

The physician cleared his throat nervously,

"We managed to repair all of the internal damage but with some of the…odd…substances she has in her blood we don't dare try any CURES. She lost a rather large amount of blood with the internal bleeding. Her system seems to be handling that without to much difficulty, but we are still having a problem. The substance that the patient overdosed on has insinuated itself into her nerve cells, over stimulating them and causing excruciating pain. At the same time it has stripped her body's ability to protect itself against that pain."

Vincent did not like the way the Doctor referred to Chrysta as "the patient" rather than using her name. He growled,

"And this means?"

The physician flinched at the dislike in the deep voice. He rubbed a tired hand over his face; he was NOT telling this frightening man how close they had come to loosing the woman the first time they had tried to bring her up out of the drug induced coma.

"Every time we try to wake her, the pain levels increase until her body tries to seize again. We can't think of any way to purge the toxin from her system. All we can do is keep her sedated with the hope that, if given a little time and support, her body will flush the drug out itself."

The Doctor left with instructions to get him if there was ANY change, Grant silently visited the bedside for a few moments. He could not stay; he quickly explained, he had been late because Don Ricardo had called a town meeting. It seemed that Don Diego was trying to squirm his way out of paying up on the bet by insisting that his son had overstepped his authority in making the wager in the first place. Vincent had to figuratively "SIT" on Chaos as the demon's rage combined with his to roll through the ex-Turk's mind. Vincent knew that his body could NOT deal with another "shift" this soon.

Seeing the look on Valentine's usually unexpressive face, Grant hastily grabbed his shoulder.

"No… she needs BOTH of you to stay here! The Don's don't take it lightly when one of their own acts without honor. Chrysta has a lot of people in this town who care for her and WE will make sure Diego doesn't get away with this."

After he had left, Vincent settled one hip on the edge of the bed and slid his hand under Chrysta's, which was lying cold and still on the covers. He tried very hard to ignore the wires and invasive tubes that were keeping her alive, telling himself over and over that this had NOTHING in common with the experiences in his life.

"Chaos, what are the chances that her body can purge itself?"

The demon lord took a long time to answer and Vincent knew before he did, that he was not going to like it.

"I TOLD YOU BEFORE VALENTINE, THAT THERE IS ONLY ONE WAY FOR THIS TO END. YOU SHOULD HAVE LET ME DO SOMETHING…..PERMENANT…..WHILE YOU WERE UNAWARES." The demon chastised him sadly.

All of a sudden it was just too much. Valentine surged off of the bed, savagely shoving Chaos….DOWN…. as far as he could. He ran out of the medical bay, needing to get away from the oppressive machines, his fear of being there, and most of all, the overwhelming emotions that he had never wanted to deal with again. He staggered off of the ship into bright sunshine, and winced at the sudden itching, burning head ache that slammed him behind the eyes. He felt Chaos try to rise up but even that faded under the piercing pain and the dull buzzing that accompanied it. Together… they flat shut his mind down.

A little while later, Cid stepped out of the shadowed hatch. He had seen his friend blow by, visibly upset. The pilot was surprised that the man had controlled his TOTAL dislike of anything related to medical science as long as he had. It said something about how the quiet, introverted ex-Turk must feel towards the injured woman his…companion….had called in help for. Cid had given him some time to collect himself then came out to check on the gunslinger.

As he lit his cigarette, his sharp eyes traveled over the animal pens that the Shera was parked amongst. He burnt his fingers when he saw where Valentine was. He had been warned from the beginning to stay away from the paddock that housed a massive silver, black striped beast. He really hadn't needed the warning, any dumb ass could see the sharp black fangs, and evil eye the animal possessed. That is why it terrified him to see the crimson cloaked form of Vincent Valentine INSIDE the paddock, actually kneeling in front of the animal's dangerous sharp spurred front legs. The heavy ridged, horned head was level with the man's, its dagger fanged mouth practically in the pale face.

SHIT…. Cid moved slowly towards the fence, not wanting to startle any one, but thinking maybe, he could distract the creature from its intended victim.

Blood on shadows, this strange thought looped over and over again in the gunman's sluggish mind.

"VINCE," a sharp hiss penetrated the fog he couldn't seem to shake from his head.

The gunman muttered, "Its VINCENT…." Then his malfunctioning brain registered the ice green eye starring into his crimson ones and the black on silver striped legs he was kneeling in front of.

"Oh Shit!" was his first immediate thought.

It was chased away by Chaos's,

"YA THINK! DON"T MOVE FAST, KEEP EVERYTHING CALM."

Vincent realized that his good hand was around the base of the General's very sharp spur, a drop of blood red venom had gathered on its razor tip. As he watched the drop shimmered, solidifying in the warm, dry air and dropped to join three identical ruby red "gems" nestled in his claw hand's black palm. It looked just like four drops of blood caught against a midnight shadow.

A voice like the rumbling kiss of thunder, echoed through his mind. "_HAVE THE WOMAN….INGEST…ONE… OF THESE_."

The cadence of the words sounded …young. But the ex-Turk had the sudden impression of a granite mountain that was in the process of being up thrust. One day, if given the chance, this would be a force of nature to be reckoned with. As the General acquired age he would become like that massive granite peak which was unyielding, and powerful enough that mighty storms would run up against it and stop in their tracks. Valentine understood now, why Nuva had been so insistent on saving this one.,

The ex-Turk realized he did not have full control of his body yet, when that feral eye flashed with…amusement… and SOMETHING forced his flesh hand up. He found himself vigorously scratching the soft skin behind that solid horned ridge. The General sighed in pleasure and closed his eyes. Then he released his "lock" letting Valentine go. The gunman slowly eased up and staggered back; Cid reached through the gate and YANKED him out of the paddock.

"Holy SHIT! What the FUCK do you think your doing? Have you gone Fricken INSANE in the week you've been here?"

The excitable pilot had the red cloak bunched in his fists and was shaking the ex-Turk, not helping his splitting head ache at all. He did manage to close the gauntlet very carefully over those precious drops so as not to lose them.

Vincent freed himself from the pilot's rough hold.

"It's okay Cid and yes, I think I probably have gone insane over the course of this week."

The man held an internal conference with Chaos as they studied the gleaming little drops,

"What do you think, we know there is no love lost between the General and Chrysta?"

His headache spiked, "_I DO NOT DO THIS FOR …HER,"_ There was still dislike in the feelings that accompanied the words and the ice green eyes glinted wickedly at them from the paddock fence. The gunman saw a fleeting look of …respect… there. "_AND I DO NOT DO IT FOR THE FLAME! IT IS DONE FOR THE SHADOW WITHIN, THE ONE WHO IS MY BROTHER IN SPIRIT."_

Vincent could feel the demon's utter surprise,

"I CAN'T SEE AS HOW IT COULD HURT, SHE WILL DIE IF WE DO NOTHING."

They found themselves a few minutes later trying to explain to the doctor why he needed to bring Chrysta up out of the coma enough that he could remove the ventilator so she could swallow. The physician argued with them for a good ten minutes before Chaos lost ALL patience and snatched control for a moment. Cerberus appeared in Vincent's hand and with hot golden eyes he stared the frightened man down.

"DO IT!"

"Fine," the doctor muttered, "but I should at least have a crash team here if this doesn't work".

Chaos moved back but before he did he murmured,

"IF THIS DOESN'T WORK, NO CRASH TEAM WILL BE NEEDED."

Vincent didn't contradict him.

The physician stopped the drug that was keeping Chrysta comatose and they watched tensely as her pain levels started to rise. It was not long and she blinked, eyes opening then narrowing as her discomfort grew. Her gaze drifted over to the gunman and he responded to the bewilderment in them.

Kneeling down, Vincent ran his fingers through the short, chestnut hair and spoke quietly in her ear.

"I know you hurt. Be still, if you can. We need you to keep some control just for a little while.

By the time the doctor was ready to pull the ventilator, tremors were traveling over Chrysta in waves, but she held on to the gunman's hand and fought her body's need to seize up with all of her iron will. As soon as she quit gagging and coughing, Vincent pressed on her chin getting her to open her mouth and dropped the bloody red jewel in. The gunman was glad he held the woman's mouth closed when he saw the expression that crossed her face. He was pretty sure if he hadn't, she would have spit it right out.

For too long the only sounds were the frantic beeping of the monitors, Chrysta's pained gasps, and (Vincent couldn't believe what he was hearing) a softly hummed….lullaby?... from Chaos. It WAS soothing; Chrysta closed her eyes and seemed to get a little relief from it. After what seemed an eternity, the woman released a long sigh, the tremors started to back off, and the demon let his humming trail off as the red lined monitors started to change to green. Chrysta tiredly opened her green eyes, the words were hoarse but like music to the gunman's ears.

"GODS! That tasted NASTY! Worse than dreamleaf, I really hope you brought some coffee to wash it down." She shifted a little and winced, her eyelids were already drooping.

"Hey." She murmured, "Chaos… don't stop, that was….nice…" The demon picked up his humming and continued until she was asleep.

* * *

Two more chapters to go!


	36. Chapter 36

This is a fanfiction...Square Enix holds all rights to FFVII.

To Race the Wild Wind CH. 36

Reeves were pushing Valentine to end his vacation and return to deal with a couple of nasty problems that had cropped up. Cid agreed to stay and give the gunman a lift back when ever he was ready. The pilot had found the casinos and although he wouldn't admit it, was having a great time.

Even so…It didn't take Vincent long to figure out that he needed to stay a few days longer. Chrysta was a TERRIBLE patient. She didn't like the doctor, (although the gunman couldn't find it in his heart to blame her.) and would NOT follow his instructions. The physician refused to use a CURE for fear of some weird drug interaction but on the morning of day two, SOMEHOW, she managed to convince Grant to do it. The gunman made it very clear when he found the bartender helping her to sit up afterwards, that he would NOT be leaving the two of them ALONE again.

Although the CURE worked as it should, Chrysta was still very sore, and weak from blood loss. This was something only time would heal. The Doctor demanded she stay in bed. By the evening of the second day, she had used everything in her arsenal trying to convince the ex-Turk to let her leave and rest in her OWN room. He disregarded the grumbling, pretended he didn't hear the cajoling, and acted as though he was asleep through the badgering, but in the end she resorted to WHINING.

Chaos was absolutely NO help, when he casually suggested that she would PROBABLY rest easier in her OWN bed. (And they MOST certainly would.)

As the gunman carried her back to the Ironwood, I.V's and all, he did hid best to ignore Grant's "HAH, she got to you too!" look and the smug little smile on Chrysta's face.

Grant came up later that night. He grinned when he saw the woman curled up asleep against Vincent's side on the bed. The gunman put down the book he was reading and at the look on his face, and the finger that Vincent put to his lips admonishing silence, Grant managed to get the grin under control. The big man set a glass of red wine and one of water (Oh… Chrysta will LOVE that) on the night stand and dropped a long sheet of paper in front of the book in Vincent's hand. Then he very quietly gathered up Vincent's bloodied clothes and slipped back out of the room.

The gunman took a moment to study the paper and actually contemplated waking the woman to show it to her. It seemed that the other Don's had made Diego see the light. She was now the sole owner of Paradise Valley. He studied the face of the peacefully sleeping hellion next to him and then shot a glance at the glass of wine and his book. The pleasant silence won out. Vincent let the woman sleep.

The next morning the ex-Turk got the woman to drink the whole glass of water by promising to remove the needles that she (and he) detested. Chrysta drank it with NO complaints and sipped her coffee while he kept his end of the bargain. When he came out from taking a quick shower, she was standing at the window watching the courtyard. She had the folded deed dangling out of one hand. Chaos assured him that, although still a little shaky, she was fine.

Grant had returned his clothing, clean, folded neatly and someone had even repaired a lot of the old damage on the crimson cloak with tiny, well placed stitches.

"You would be surprised at how neatly Grant can tie a stitch. He probably learned from the same person who taught you."

Chrysta had left the window and settled herself carefully on the duvet. She watched him dress, her face quiet and still.

"You are planning on leaving, aren't you?"

Vincent hesitated as he buckled the last strap on his cloak. He didn't realize that he had tucked his chin down behind the cloak's collar, hiding his face as conflicting emotions caused his stomach to roll.

Chrysta's sharp eyes noticed though, they shuttered themselves and she casually turned to look back out of the window.

"I understand Valentine, just be sure to remember your promise and at least come to say good bye."

"Hnnnn…. Actually I was going to tell you that now, just in case I don't get a chance to come by later."

Vincent flinched, hating himself when her head dropped a little.

Then those strong shoulders straightened and Chrysta looked back at him with a slight smile.

"Do you think you will be coming back through this way?"

The gunman shrugged awkwardly,

"It is… possible."

The woman slowly stood up and came over to stand in front of him, she pulled his collar down revealing his face and softly kissed him on the lips.

"Well… then, good- bye Vincent Valentine."

Her green eyes stared deep into his crimson ones,

"And good-bye Chaos… it has truly been an honor to meet you."

The demon did not utter a word until they were halfway down the stairs, then he growled very softly,

"VALENTINE… YOU ARE SUCH A COWARD!"

Weather moving in that afternoon took their departure time out of their hands. Cid wanted to get his airship out of the area before it hit. The storms in this part of the world were known for abundant lightening and their unpredictably wild winds. The ex-Turk did find a quick moment to make it back to the Ironwood, but when he opened the door, Chrysta was sound asleep on the duvet. Vincent slipped quietly into the room and stood for a long moment just watching her sleep.

Then… the man knelt down, ruffled his fingers ever so carefully through her hair and lightly brushed her lips with his.

"Good-bye Chrysta." He whispered softly against her mouth.

The woman stirred but did not wake. Grant lifted a hand as he left and the gunman nodded in farewell.

Ugly black clouds were building on the horizon when Cid delicately lifted the Shera out of town.

They were about ten miles out when Valentine couldn't stand it anymore. If Chaos didn't quit radiating unhappiness, the gunman just might have to get creative in finding a way to kill himself.

"CHAOS….. do you want to go back and say good-bye in person?"

"YES, VERY MUCH SO…..I JUST HESITATED TO ASK, AS YOUR PHYSICAL CONDITION IS NOT THE BEST RIGHT NOW. YOUR BODY HAS BEEN THROUGH A LOT THIS PAST WEEK."

The ex-Turk groaned softly,

"Go ahead, one more time isn't going to hurt."

His demon chuckled darkly,

"YES IT WILL… TELL HIGHWIND I WILL CATCH UP!"

Chaos winged back towards Clearwater at almost his top speed. He had a sneaking suspicion that Chrysta was a lot more upset by their leaving then she had let on. He didn't trust that Grant would be able to keep her from over extending herself too quickly. The sight that presented itself in the courtyard confirmed one of his suspicions. Chrysta had some how gotten by Grant and was standing outside with Nuva, talking to another person. The demon's sharp eyes picked up on the fact that she was wearing one of her leather riding vests. With a shock, Chaos recognized the person she was evidently arguing with. It was the red headed son of Diego He picked up speed. The demon was too far away to react when the woman lashed out, planting a fist upside the man's face. Rave staggered back clawing at his sidearm. Chaos dropped fast but knew he wouldn't be able to beat the man's shot.

He shouldn't have worried. Nuva reached the fool as he brought the gun up and buried her long black fangs in the red head's shoulder. She yanked him up, and flipped his body across the courtyard like a doll. When the man thumped into the dirt, he lost the gun. Chaos landed lightly beside the woman as Nuva STALKED her victim, following him intently as he tried to crawl away.

"DON'T kill him Nuva."

The woman murmured this quietly as she watched the mare clinically study Rave then almost casually snap a fore hoof down, breaking his leg. As the red head screamed Chaos slashed a look at the woman standing quietly beside him. She made no move to stop the cream. Her eyes gleamed rich blue and a nasty smile curled her lips. The demon lord realized she was sharing in, and enjoying the old line mare's vicious retribution.

GODS! But he loved this woman. Valentine was a FOOL to let a gem like this get away. His initial plan changed then and there. Another scream from the redhead drew his attention and he saw that the mare had nipped a good size chunk out of the boy's ass.

Chrysta snickered evilly,

"I'll bet that leaves a scar!"

Nuva plucked the man up by the collar and hoisted him over the fence and into the General's paddock.

This time Chrysta moved.

"CRAP! NUVA what part of ….DON'T kill him didn't you get!"

Nuva snaked her head around to glare evilly at her life long trainer, then she popped her sharp black fangs together,

Chrysta stopped in her tracks.

"Damn it… if the General kills him, we will end up with a blood bath." She turned and with a sigh, walked back to the demon. "On the other hand, Nuva is right. Inferno was the General's son too."

They watched as the big silver flowed towards Rave. The panicked man was pushing himself backwards on his bleeding ass but wasn't making much headway due his other injuries. The General stopped and dropped his head to where he could look the red head right in the eye. What ever Diego's son saw there, it had him screaming and begging. With a deep guttural moan, the stallion reared, striking that terrifying killing pose. He slashed down with both front legs and his spurs opened Rave's face in two deep slashes that traveled down his cheeks from his eyes to his chin. The man curled up in a weeping, bleeding ball. The General nosed him once in contempt and then walked away.

Grant had come running out when he heard all of the screaming. Chrysta sighed and turned towards him,

"Guess we had better get him out of there and over to Dr. Whitet's office."

The bartender just curled his lips.

Chaos shifted, his golden eyes hot.

"OH….PLEASE…..LET ME DO THE HONORS."

The woman eyed the winged one narrowly,

"We REALLY don't need a range war Chaos; promise me you won't kill him."

The demon cleared the fence and scooped the bleeding, broken man up.

"I PROMISE I WON'T KILL OR MAIM HIM." He pointed a sharp black talon at Chrysta, "YOU….STAY RIGHT THERE."

Chaos shot up until the town appeared very small and lifted the arrogant young man so they were face to face. The red head just stared at him in shock and terror.

The demon gave the man a light shake to make sure he had his attention.

"BEFORE YOU OR YOUR USELESS SIRE EVEN… THINK… ABOUT CAUSING CHRYSTA ANY MORE HARM, OR EVEN JUST A LITTLE GRIEF, CONTEMPLATE THIS. IF CHRYSTA'S DESTRIA DON'T KILL YOU, YOU CAN REST ASSURED… I WILL NEVER STOP HUNTING FOR YOU, AND… I….WILL….FIND…..YOU!

He dropped his distasteful burden at the town doctor's office, slightly amused by both doctor Whitet and his receptionist trying to hide under the office desk.

When the demon lord landed back in the courtyard, Chrysta was quietly checking that the long slashes down Nuva's sides were healing well. The sound of the approaching storm's thunder ALMOST drowned out his rumbling growl. She turned to eye him cautiously. One hand reached out and casually tapped her hard leather chest guard with one sharp claw..

"SOOO…."He snarled, "WERE YOU PLANNING ON GOING RIDING?"

His gold eyes glinted wickedly.

A slight flush rose up her high cheeks.

"NO….Grant made me put this on before he would let me come out, told me he would personally break my leg if he saw it cross a destria's back."

The demon suppressed a smile…leave it to Grant to draw a nice clear line in the sand. It was a good thing he had come back as he could tell by the look on the woman's face that she had been contemplating stepping over it.

The demon tapped the vest again.

Was it possible for the High lord of the Nine Hells to sound innocent? Chaos gave it his best shot.

"HUMMMM…SOOO…IS THIS THING LACED UP NICE AND TIGHT?"

Chrysta gave the vest a light tug,

"Grant laced it himself, so yes…. It is tight."

"GOOD…" the demon gave her no warning; he just picked her up and took off.

"OH… SHIT!" Chrysta wrapped her arms around the demon's neck in a death grip. She buried her face, eyes closed, under his chin. Chaos climbed hard and also covered ground at a tremendous rate of speed. He leveled out on the topside of the storm. The demon couldn't stay here long, there was not enough oxygen but he needed the height to gain the speed for what he wanted to do.

"CHRYSTA…"He murmured softly into her ear.

"DO YOU TRUST ME?"

The question startled her enough that she unburied her face and looked up at him.

"Yes, I trust you."

The woman in his arms looked down, and froze, but not in fear. She was stunned by the eerie beauty of the black roiling clouds being lit from within by the fires of hell…or heaven.

"Oh…." She whispered.

Chaos could not help himself; he breathed in her intoxicating spicy scent and ran a tongue along the edge of her ear.

"KNOW THIS THEN, AS IT IS WRITTEN IN STONE…. I… WILL…NEVER….LET YOU FALL."

The demon lord shifted her body until her back was held firmly against his chest, his arms holding her tight across the supporting chest guard. He was glad for it, because if she hadn't had it on he couldn't do this. He hooked a leg over hers and dove.

The wind snatched her scream as they dropped into a canyon created by the clouds. Chaos dodged the lightening, and dipped from one side to the other, compensating for some of the turbulence that wracked these storms. He leveled out a little and raced for the wild wind that ran at the head of the storm. They lifted, right before they reached the great horizontal vortex that the massive front was pushing along and Chaos timed it perfectly as he rode the crest and inserted himself into the wave. He could hear the woman yelling but it wasn't fear that he smelled on her, it was pure exhilaration. They surfed the curl, picking up even more speed as the powerful wind helped push them along. Chaos shot along the tunnel of wind and at the edge of control he tightened his wings in. They reached the end of the vortex and with the wave threatening to crash over them; they came rocketing out of the clouds to soar into a rain filled sky.

He could feel Chrysta shaking against him and he again shifted his hold until the woman was cradled bridal style in his arms.

She looked at him, green eyes wild and sparkling.

"WOW….. Can we do that again?"

His deep laughter rumbled against her,

"I THINK ONCE IS ENOUGH FOR TONIGHT."

At her disappointed look the demon gave her a little squeeze.

"THERE IS NOTHING SAYING THAT WE CANNOT DO IT AGAIN, SOME OTHER TIME."

Chaos landed carefully and gently set her on her feet at the Ironwood's back door. She stepped into him and pressed her chilled, wet body tight against his, her arms laced behind his back. Chaos dropped his wings around her warming her and sheltering her from the rain.

"CHRYSTA…" It was almost a whisper. "RACING THE WILD WIND IS…..NOT…..FUTILE! THERE IS ALWAYS THE CHANCE THAT YOU WILL CATCH IT, AND WHEN YOU DO….IT WILL GIVE YOU THE RIDE OF YOUR LIFE."

His partner pushed back and looked at him, her face still and thoughtful. The Dark one caught her lips with his, he didn't draw blood even though the desire to…TASTE… her was overwhelming; she couldn't afford to lose even a little right now. They were still engaged in a slow, delicious kiss when the door popped open. Chaos looked up to see a grown man…POOF… up like a broody hen.

"Chrysta…. What in the HELL are you doing out in the rain?" Grant pinned the demon with a hard look. "And YOU… you should know better."

Chrysta released her hold and backed up, smiling sheepishly.

The demon opened his wings and ran a careful talon down her cheek,

"YOU WILL THINK ABOUT WHAT I SAID?"

She flashed him a wicked smile.

"Oh yes, Chaos…. You can count on it."

As Chaos raced to catch up to the airship, he smiled wickedly thinking of the totally evil look that had crossed her face when he said good-bye. Valentine was sooo screwed.


	37. Chapter 37

MERRY CHRISTMAS! As promised...this story is now complete! I will take a day or two and then start re-loading "On the Wings of TRust". I look forward to resuming writing with it. PLEASE read the small excerpt after the end as it is important to my said this...This is a fanfiction...Square Enix holds all rights to FFVII..

To Race the Wild Wind Ch. 37

Tifa wiped down the bar and surreptitiously watched her friend. She, like everyone else, had been very happy to see him after the week he disappeared while on…vacation.

Where ever he had gone, it seemed to have done him a world of good. Yes, he had come back tired, but Vincent had been more relaxed, less closed down. He had even taken the tongue lashing Yuffie had dished out with unusually good grace. The gunman had spent a lot of the last three months, when he wasn't on a mission, here at Seventh Heaven, rather than at the Valentine mansion. A fact that she thought was also a good sign.

About a week ago though, the normally quiet man had gotten positively… totally… silent. The woman set the glass down with a sigh; it was very evident that the introverted gunslinger had met "someone" while he had been away. The ex-Turk had answered his cell (will wonders ever cease) a couple of times at the bar, and whomever it was that he talked to, had made his normally unreadable face light up, and his crimson eyes glimmer like red and gold gems. Speaking of which, she saw a flash of red and hastily looked away. Vincent was depressed enough as it was, he didn't need his friends staring at him. Something… had happened and it was really bothering the man. Tifa nodded her dark head slightly; whoever was breaking his heart was going to get their ass handed to them by yours truly, if ever the chance arose.

"VINCENT….."

Chaos stirred unhappily.

"Shut up Chaos,"

The gunman unconsciously traced a finger over the rim of his almost empty wine glass. He glanced up, catching Tifa watching him. He was relieved when she hurriedly glanced away.

"Why has she quit calling?"

The ex-Turk silently asked the demon.

Chaos sighed and thought darkly, I can't answer and shut up at the same time, but he only said,

"I DON'T KNOW VALENTINE."

The man pushed him back a little, and left the demon lord to his own depressed thoughts. Chaos had been proud of the way Chrysta whole heartedly implemented his advice. She had stalked Vincent like a truly superb, intelligent predator. Nothing overt, or aggressive, she used silent, SNEAKY tactics, designed to not frighten off a wary prey.

At first she just called every couple of days. Sometimes Vincent answered the phone, more often he didn't. When she couldn't reach him she did nothing that would seem "pushy", she left innocuous messages about building the retaining wall to keep people out of Paradise valley, or how well Nuva had healed. Once she was laughing hysterically as she warned him to make the Anesthetic she had sent to him in the first month he was home, last, as Grant had accidentally blown up the still. That was the first time the Ex-Turk returned her call, rationalizing to himself that he wanted to make sure NO ONE was injured.

After that, Valentine had made it a point to pick up when she called. Chaos had kept his laughter to himself, as gradually the man became uncomfortable in the lonely mansion he dwelled in. The gunman started spending more time at Tifa's bar, but even that seemed to have lost the comfortable "feeling of home" that use to be there. The demon didn't fail to register the fact that Vincent seemed unhappiest about where he was, AFTER talking to Chrysta on the phone for a while.

Recently, the wily woman had started sending pictures and short video's, although these were usually accompanied by ….interesting….language as she tried to figure out how the cell's video operated. One in particular was memorable.

This video showed Paradise Valley flaming with the rich reds, yellows, and gold's, of the hardwood trees in autumn. Chrysta appeared, riding Zephyr as they came up the river path. Nuva was galloping parallel to the pair with Andrew not so much riding her as seeming a part of her. Bracketed between the two, the General strode, unencumbered by any tack, head thrown high, moving in total freedom. Behind him, poured a river of gleaming hides, flowing manes and tossing horned heads. Vincent stared in amazement; there must have been thirty old line mares and stallions in that herd. Chrysta and Andrew stopped as they topped the ridge and surprisingly, so did the big silver stallion. They watched as the herd thundered up and over the edge, heading down into their new sanctuary. The destria looked like nothing more that an extension of the flaming forest, the sun glimmering off of the reds, gold's, silvers, blacks, and grays as they poured over the rim towards the freedom that Chrysta and the General had risked so much to acquire.

As the last young male passed, the General brushed up against Zephyr, his long muzzle bumping Chrysta hard on the shoulder. Turning away, the old line stallion rose slowly into that beautiful, classic rearing pose. He held it for a long minute, his white mane and tail tossing in the wind. His triumphant bugle rang out, echoing off of the hillsides, and then, he launched himself without a backwards glance to follow his "family" down the path to the destiny that awaited them.

Chrysta had called shortly after, and explained in a voice that could hardly contain her pleasure that many of the Don's had turned over any destria that showed signs of being old line blood into her care. Nuva no longer had to worry about loosing the destria's legacy.

They had received one more call after that, the woman sounded tired, but happy and she sent a picture of a beautiful little log cabin nestled in a picturesque clearing. The lake that occupied one end of Paradise Valley was in the back ground. A one word message had accompanied it. It simply said...HOME.

That had been ten days ago, they had heard nothing since, and no one had answered when Vincent had broken down and tried to call. Chaos very much wanted to physically go and check on things, but Vincent kept shutting him down whenever he tried to suggest it.

The deep roar of Cloud's Fenrir penetrated the gunman's dark thoughts and he realized that it must be getting late if the blonde was home already. Tifa would be closing soon. With a soft sigh, Vincent rose intending on heading up to his room but unfortunately, he was intercepted as Yuffie came thundering down the stairs. The ex-Turk couldn't help but wonder how someone so small and slim could be that loud.

She grinned impishly at him,

"Hey Vinny, why don't you quit being so moody, broody and come out to the club with me."

She didn't even flinch at the dark frown he threw her way,

"It is Vincent….and no thank you, I am heading up to bed."

The girl snorted,

"Come on…. EVERYONE knows you don't need to sleep, it will be fun."

Chaos rumbled quietly, I WILL RAISE MY WAGER TO TEN TO ONE THAT THIS ANNOYING CHILD DOESN'T MAKE IT TO MATURITY… ANY TAKERS?"

Vincent's lips quirked involuntarily at the irritation in the demon's tone, Chaos had maintained for years that someone would do Yuffie in out of sheer annoyance before she had a chance to mature.

"No thank you Yuffie, but if you are intent on pickling yourself tonight," He stepped aside, "Be my guest."

The young woman breezed past him,

"Your loss Vince….course you are missing out on being seen in public with the great Yuffie Kisaragi." She blew him a kiss, "Hey if I hurry, maybe Cloud will give me a ride."

Vincent vaguely registered the fact that his blonde friend had not made it inside yet.

He was halfway up the stairs when, there was a shout from outside, followed by the shimmering ring of steel on steel. Yuffie screamed and the gunman came flying down the stairs. The young woman's voice held a note of true terror. As he past the bar, Tifa joined him. The sound that came next made his blood run cold and had Cerberus practically leaping into his hand. It was the coughing scream of an enraged destria. The two of them came sliding out of the door, into the dark of night. The scene that the street lamps illuminated froze them both.

Yuffie was down, pinned to the ground by the front hoof of a lovely black and red brindled destria. She had her black fanged muzzle in the woman's face and was systematically slobbering, licking and whuffling into it, completely ignoring the ninja's shrieks of, "GROSS…. Yuck… that's DISGUSTING." Evidently the young woman had come running out of the door right under the mare's feet and had startled her. The destria had reacted with remarkable restraint by just restraining the ninja and not harming her.

Cloud, thinking Yuffie was getting attacked had struck with First Tsurugi, only to have the huge black bulk of Zephyr surge forwards. The slender crimson sword of Chrysta's deflected the blow but as the big sword slid by, it had cut a long shallow slice across the stallion's massive black shoulder. Zephyr was up in a battle stance, totally pissed and Chrysta was trying to get him wrestled to the ground. Before the blonde swordsman could strike again, Vincent's deep voice cracked out like a whip.

"EVERYBODY…. FREEZE!"

Cloud froze, and Chrysta finally got the black to come back to earth with a shuddering thump. The brindle gave Yuffie's face a last swipe and carefully backed off of her so she could get up. The young woman scooted back on her butt until she was against Cloud's legs. She stayed there, scrubbing at her face. The blonde swordsman glanced uncertainly at the red cloaked gunman, Vincent didn't return his look, His eyes had never left the rider who had sheathed her sword and was carefully examining the stallion's injury.

The ex-Turk holstered his gun and was standing quietly with his arms folded, when Chrysta, satisfied that the wound was nothing serious, looked up.

"Hey there, Valentine."

The words were soft and accompanied by a smile.

Vincent's gold claws tapped nervously on his arm.

"You quit calling." Was all he said.

Chrysta blinked,

"I am sorry Vincent, Vortex…"She stabbed a finger at the brindled mare, "…ate my cell phone a couple of days into the trip."

Said mare looked the gunman in the eye and grinned a wicked destria smile.

Valentine's heart skipped a beat when he found himself looking into deep yellow eyes that glowed with the fire that burned at the heart of a star.

Chrysta grinned,

"You would be AMAZED at how people just seem to disappear when you are traveling with three of these guys, so I couldn't borrow a phone either. Besides, Nuva REALLY wanted to surprise you, although in retrospect that probably wasn't the brightest idea I have had."

The cream's head popped up from behind Zephyr's bulk, she seemed amused.

"HOLD ON….DID I HEAR THAT RIGHJT? YOU TRAVELLED CLEAR FROM PARADISE VALLEY…..ALONE?

It was a deep growl.

Vincent saw the woman's eyes narrow.

"Shut up Chaos!"

"I WILL NOT…."

She was tired and dusty but when Chrysta's smile turned wicked, she looked absolutely beautiful to the ex-Turk's eyes. Her husky voice was soft.

"Shut up Chaos."

And miracle of miracles, the demon lord shut up.

Tifa had been watching the woman unconsciously control the huge animal she rode, with her legs alone. Maybe she would just hold off on that ass kicking for a little while.

The woman slid off of the black's broad back with a groan,

"GODS, I have been in that saddle so long I was beginning to think that my ass had grown a destria." She stretched, rubbed the offending piece of her anatomy and shot the gunman a contemplative look.

"SOOOO….. Valentine, do you and that ancient reprobate you host, feel like coming with us to race the wind?"

The gunman froze, over ridden by conflicting emotion. Chaos gave him a gentle mental nudge.

"COME ON VALENTINE…..YOU WERE WILLING TO DIE FOR HER…..WHY ARE YOU NOT WILLING TO LIVE FOR HER?"

Vincent's friends couldn't believe it when the gunman covered the distance to the woman in the space of a heart beat. He enfolded her in his cloak, strong arms pressing her against his lean body. For a moment, it looked almost like both of them were wrapped in warm, dark wings. Chrysta looked up and her green eyes searched Vincent's crimson ones. Chaos's deep rumbling, "YES," rolled through them both as the woman evidently found what she was looking for. Her lips curved in a slow, soft contented smile as Vincent's mouth gently traced down her jaw and his warm strong lips closed over hers, claiming her as his own.

****************************FINIS*************************************

And so, this wonderful ride comes to an end. Thank you to all of those who joined me in it. And my special thanks to those of you who took the time to review!

I have kept this to myself since I did not want to flavor the emotional taste of the story with any outside influence. This is dedicated to Wyoming Joe's Cream Soda Pop A.K.A Miss Piggy. She was my beloved horse. Miss Piggy turned three the summer that I wrote this and Nuva's sweet, honest, impish personality was based on her. Unfortunately Nuva's age and wisdom are based on my 23 year old mare Valley. Miss Piggy will not get the chance to be wise, as she had a terrible accident in her pasture and passed away before I could reach her as I was working on chapter 34. I am glad this story immortalizes her incredible personality and honesty, she will be in my thoughts every day.


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